That Which Makes One Human
by Shadow Master
Summary: (BtVS/YAHF/Underworld/Species/Venom/Darkstalkers/Hellboy/Van Helsing movie/Tenchi Muyo/Ghost Rider/Aliens & Predator/Others)Amazing how one slight change can mess things up isn't it?
1. Chapter 1

"That Which Makes One Human…" By Shadow Master

(YAHF/BtVS/Underworld Elements/Species Elements/Venom Elements/Darkstalkers Elements/Hellboy Elements/Van Helsing Movie Elements/Tenchi Muyo Elements/Ghost Rider Elements/Predator & Alien elements/Others)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful owner of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because some people enjoy reading the stories I wish to tell. Therefore I would appreciate it if no legal action were taken against me as a result of this story.

Note : I thought up this idea after watching the most recent Predator Movie with Halloween fresh on the horizon. I thought to myself 'what would it be like if the Predator race, the Yautja, suddenly found deadly beings on Earth that just might be better than them. However rather than take the typical hero route or even alien fighter route I decided to take another route. I know that a lot of you like it when all the action sticks to Sunnydale and in this story it will… in the beginning. However I find that some of the best stories take place away from the main characters' canon areas of operation. We already know what happens in those places so why not take the story someplace else. If you prefer that things stay in Sunnydale then this is not the fan fiction for you.

Note 2: Another thing to say is that those who like the change but think the story should always have the characters revert back to whomever or whatever they were before the change won't like this story. It is my opinion that changes that can be undone leaving only memories of the time changed are about as appealing as a watered down drink. The flavor is there but it's nowhere near as enjoyable as it is when the drink isn't watered down. So what the affected BtVS cast members turn into they will NOT be getting turned back into their normal canon selves under any circumstances. At least not permanently. If you don't like this then I suggest you give up on this story right now and hit the back button on your web browser.

Note 3: I will do my best to stay true to the source materials involved out of respect for them but my priority will always be to tell the story I want to tell. I have no rules, standards or guidelines to follow save those I choose to adhere to on my own and those required by the websites I post my stories on. Therefore no manner of bashing, negative review or message will prevent me from telling the story I want to tell.

Lastly positive reviews will be welcomed, CONSTRUCTIVE criticism will be considered with all due weight and flames will be gleefully ignored with those haters who prove stubborn a block on their reviews.

Now on with the story…

_That Which Makes One Human…_

Sunnydale.

Boca Del Inferno.

It was a place that was horrible to some while quite lovely to others.

Atop a barely sealed dimensional fissure rested a typical North American town comprised of people, buildings and a way of life that was about what you'd expect for such a place. Most of the humans who lived in Sunnydale had no idea of the truth, no clue about the darkness in their midst, and went about their lives without a care. However there existed some who knew precisely what was going on atop the Hellmouth but this was not necessarily a good thing. For those who knew the truth almost ninety-five percent of them were neither human nor the sort who had humanity's best interests at heart.

They were DEMONS.

MONSTERS!

They were forms of life that went against what could be considered the natural order and were as parasites upon the planet Gaea. They prowled the town of Sunnydale, both above and below, preying upon the innocent and unwary much to the obliviousness of its human residents. It was unnatural how the citizens of Sunnydale failed to realize the danger in their midst but, in their defense, there were factors to consider. The first is that the entire area was engulfed in a sea of paranormal and demonic energy, both of which were documented as having a malleable effect on the human mind. The second was the presence of a warlock by the name of Richard Wilkins who, for almost a hundred years, has been working towards the completion of a ritual with the potential to destroy the balance. Wilkins, almost from the town's founding, had used potent magic embedded in the surrounding geography aimed at blurring or redirecting the thoughts of those who lived in Sunnydale, save him. Anytime they saw something supernatural or demonic the magic would ensure that they would accept anything BUT the truth for what they saw. Only those who got too close to the truth accepted it and this was more due to the conditions of the demons who wanted to see the fear of comprehension in their victims' eyes before they died.

However there existed a small percentage of others who knew the truth and worked to protect the people of Sunnydale however they could.

How few? They numbered less than ten.

Though they were vastly outnumbered they did not let this stop them from doing whatever they could. What made them even more amazing was that only two of them could be considered trained professionals, with the rest being simple good people with the courage to stand up and fight. Together they struggled to keep the body count down and prevent the end of the world. For a little over a year they have been successful…

…but that is all about to come to an end.

Why?

Because of All Hallow's Eve and the arrival of one Ethan Rayne.

While the night in question has become almost completely commercial, an excuse to dress up in order to get candy, the truth is decidedly darker. Halloween is a night in which the barrier between the realms becomes especially thin and the bonds holding back certain denizens of the darkness back loosen, if only by a bit. For many centuries it was a night in which those on either side of the balance, the light and the dark, scheduled one scheme or another in order to gain strategic ground. It wasn't until the early nineteenth century, however, more precisely the year 1815 by modern human standards, in which there was a volcanic eruption in the Dutch East Indies, that the Almighty stepped in. Far from being the natural disaster it'd been recorded as in human history books, this event in fact was caused by an interrupted ritual to raise the fire demon referred to in Norse mythology as Surtur. Instigated by three of the major demonic powers at the time it had been a grand affair with substantial resources poured into it but it was due to this that forces of the light learned of it and were then able to intervene.

It was a mighty battle on the slopes of the volcano but, due to the timing of the attack, when the assembled magical maelstrom required the most of the demons' focus, that things almost spiraled out of control. Split between protecting themselves and retaining control of the energy concentrated on one spot, it was only by the flimsiest of threads that the instigators retained any control. Then, when a champion struck down the head priest, the control was lost and almost triggered a cascade effect that would've set off the top five closest volcanoes along with the one serving as a battleground. Only through the intervention of a messenger of the Almighty was the damage limited to the one volcano but this event proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

An edict was handed down to the leaders of both the light side of the balance as well as the dark side of the ages-long battle. No more would either side engage in any activities of significance on Halloween night as well as the days both before All Hallow's Eve as well as after. No magic, no grand battles and no schemes capable of drawing the attention of humanity. Small 'parlor tricks' would be permitted so long as they were kept out of sight and were executed with 'discretion' being the keyword.

For those who were affiliated with the light, they accepted it like you'd expect loyal followers to, with only a handful of subordinates muttering their dissatisfaction.

For those who dwelt in the darkness, however, the edict was met with harsh rejection initially since none of them held any fondness or respect for the ruler of all they hated. Indeed there were an ambitious few who had schemed to take advantage of the subservience of the Almighty's subordinates to catch the light completely by surprise and gain massive ground in the ages-long struggle. It was only when the ruler of heaven made the walls shake and the ground tremble in the realm of hell that everyone from Satan on down fell into line. As much as Lucifer might hate his 'father' and intend to conquer heaven, he had known that it would not be to his advantage to be seen as 'reacting' to the assault. If he simply ordered his forces to retaliate he would look less than mighty, since he had not seen the show of power coming. It would be far better for him to play along for the moment and then later reveal that he HAD known the attack was coming and that his actions were all a part of a grand plan.

The imaginations of his subordinates and troops would fill in the gaps for him and likely only further the reputation of Lucifer Morningstar.

As a result, though Halloween lost none of its potential as a moment in which to do grand things, it was gradually reduced to a human holiday of no consequence to the supernatural community.

As for Ethan Rayne, he was a devout follower of chaos and Janus who'd travelled the world for years instigating commotion after catastrophe. Whether it was for his own amusement or to provide Janus with nourishment the British man never failed to work hard in order to get the most bang for his proverbial buck. Allied with neither the light or the darkness, he fell into a rather unique loophole in the edict passed down so long ago but it was only this one time that he would act on Halloween night.

The reason? Through mere chance he had learned of the current activities of an 'old chum' of his and thought of a fun way to tweak the Watcher's nose while also get reacquainted with him. It was an old spell that had been created by followers of Janus long ago that would transform those who wore prepared costumes into copies of whoever or whatever they'd dressed up to look like. Naturally there would be some limits in terms of powers or abilities conferred on the transformed but it would still make for quite a bit of chaos.

The key, though, was the sheer degree of flexibility that the spell possessed.

In order to maximize the chaos produced, it was designed so that any adjustments or changes to the core identity of whoever the costume wearing people were pretending to be would alter who they became. A person dressed as a doctor would become a doctor BUT if some fake blood was added and some rips made in the white coat then the person could become anything from a psycho killer to a zombie. Indeed, a mere bit of dirt or some slightly askew makeup could change the course of the alterations until what emerged was nowhere near what the wearer had intended.

The possibilities were almost endless!

With so many variables coming into play, only the wisest of the wise could perceive how things would look when all was said and done.

Too bad they weren't talking.

Damn smirking bastards!

_**Sunnydale, California**_

_**October 29**__**th**__**, 1997**_

_**Jenny Calender's POV**_

"Thanks for letting me use the system here, Lexi," she said as she putting the finishing touches on a presentation she was preparing for her class tomorrow. "The systems back at the high school are SO antiquated! I can barely teach those kids anything."

"No problem, cousin," Lexi said from where she was sketching something on a notepad. "Anything for family, right?"

Family.

Right.

She'd have to take steps to ensure that it didn't get back to her uncle that she was still interacting with her cousin Lexi. It was a tradition amongst the Kalderash clan that every member lived in service to the clan in some way or another. Whether it was something like the 'job' she had or simply acting as caretakers for a safe house in some part of the world that might affect the clan. Every child born into the clan was raised to follow and respect this one fact.

Lexi had chosen to do neither.

Every family had its black sheep, the one that just didn't fit in, and while in some cases this meant going evil, in other cases it just meant choosing to chart their own path regardless of what the clan elders thought. For those born to parents of lesser family, it was ignored since nothing was really expected of them.

In the case of Lexi, however, she was related just like she was to one of the elder families that led the clan and were assigned the most important of assignments because it was believed that only they could be trusted to see that it succeeded. When her cousin rejected the tasks that were presented to her and sought to make a life for herself on her own terms, this did not go over well with the elders. To be fair the elders did try to be fair, presenting a rational argument for following tradition, but when that failed psychological manipulation came into play, using whatever leverage was available. When even that failed there was only one thing to be done to settle the matter and prevent anyone from following Lexi's lead.

That being excommunication from the Kalderash clan and a prohibition of contact between Lexi and any clan member.

To such a close knit clan, especially in light of the Nazis 'final solution', this sent shockwaves through everyone.

She had been tempted to step forward then and give the elders a piece of her mind, hoping that others who were close to Lexi would do the same. It'd been her opinion at the time that if enough of the assembled clan members stood in opposition to the elders that their leaders would be forced to reconsider their course of action. However, before she could do more than take a single step, she'd been stopped in her tracks by a stern look from Lexi. It'd taken her only a moment to realize her cousin was saying 'do not do it' and that her friend didn't want her to get into trouble on her account. Then, before she could choose to disregard her friend's wishes, Lexi had boldly delivered a parting shot before striding out of the room to pack her few meager possessions before leaving.

It'd been a little over two years later that they encountered each other purely by chance during the early months of her assignment to keep watch on Angel. For a moment it'd looked like Lexi would take off in order to keep any clan consequences from being dropped onto her but she'd acted first. She'd told her cousin that she didn't care what the elders thought and that she didn't want to lose the friendship they'd nurtured growing up. Lexi had been almost touched to tears by the statement but didn't abandon her concern of clan action so they'd relocated someplace more discrete before working to come up with a way to maintain their friendship in secret. What they'd come up with were a series of drop boxes and email addresses for when they were too far apart to simply 'bump' into each other. When chance or the appearance of chance allowed them to meet, they still took steps to come up with a cover story to disguise their reunions.

It was still a tricky bit of work but it had proven to be well worth it.

"So are you doing anything for Halloween?" Lexi asked, looking up from the notepad she was working on.

"Not really. Halloween is dead, supernaturally speaking, and Rupert is planning on using the time to catch up on some library work," she replied, a little disappointed that the man who'd caught her interest found work to be more appealing than her.

She had been dropping hints, after all, along with some light flirting to measure his interest in her but thus far all she'd gotten was some cute British flustering. It'd been entertaining but still it wasn't what she was after so she'd just have to keep at it until she got enough to act on.

"Just because the guy you've got the hots for is staying in doesn't mean you have to," Lexi said, trying to direct her cousin towards something fun. "I hear they've set up a killer walk through haunted house behind Lowell House! Why don't we dress up and go see if it matches the hype!"

"Aren't we a bit old for dressing up? Besides, it'll be mostly college students going through if we did go," she said, finding the idea somewhat appealing but also questionable. "We'd kinda stand out."

"That'll be the fun part! Besides, I got some costume ideas all sketched up and, if you got the guts, it'll make sure no one'll care about how old we are!" Lexi said, sounding more enthused as time went by.

Curious as to what her cousin had come up with she tapped the save command on her work before walking over to get a better look at the notepad. Her first reaction was to smile since Lexi had always been an exceptional artist, even if the themes tended to ruffle the feathers of the clan elders. On the large sheet of paper her cousin had been working on she could see a basic female form without any details to indicate a specific person, however it was the outfit drawn using pen ink of varying colors that caught most of her attention. It showed a sexy strapless dress meant to show off the cleavage of whoever wore it, spandex leggings and knee high boots with the overall look being very Halloween themed. It'd fit right in with a female vampire or a sorceress or someone within Satan's court. She could tell that there were still some things to be drawn in due to the light pencil outlines she could see but overall the costume looked pretty good.

Assuming that the reality matched the design, it'd be a safe bet that no guy would mind her being there and any women would bitterly avoid them either out of jealousy or spite.

It was a little bolder than she normally wore but it'd definitely put a big crack in English's usual stoicism and, since it'd only be for one night, color her intrigued.

"What's this supposed to be and how long'll it take to make?" she asked, turning her head towards her cousin.

"It's pretty much done already," Lexi replied with a grin. "I can take bits and pieces from dresses the university drama club is throwing out and, after some mods, sew it all together into this. Might need to buy a few odds and ends to make it perfect but I can have it ready for Halloween night easy."

Impressive.

However she knew of one loophole that Rupert would use to try and weasel out of a night with her.

"You think you could whip up something for a man? Something for a guy about six feet tall?" she asked, knowing that Rupert would try to slip from her grasp by pointing out he had no costume.

"Hmmmm… what're his interests?" Lexi asked in return, sounding like she was seeking inspiration.

"Reading old books and scrolls. Classical theatre. Tea," she replied, rattling off everything she could recall.

"Basically a stereotypical, stuffy Brit?" Lexi said, summing it all up quite nicely.

"Yep," she confirmed, unable to find a single thing to refute this label.

"Well then the costume we get for him has to be something that's a step away from that. Several steps if we can pull it off," Lexi said, sounding like she shared the amusement of flustering stuffy people.

"Then let's see what we can come up with," she said, matching the grin growing on her cousin's face.

It took three hours for them to come up with the PERFECT costume and best of all most of it could be bought while the rest you just needed a bit of thread and a glue gun.

All would be ready by sunset Halloween night.

_**The Streets of Sunnydale**_

_**Halloween Afternoon**_

_**Joyce Summers' POV**_

"So have you decided what you want to dress up as?" she asked as they walked side by side.

"Not really. I'd hoped to talk to Xander about it but he's been busy," Dawn replied, sounding disappointed at the inability to use her usual sounding board.

She kept her reaction to a tiny grin.

Her youngest hadn't done very well in keeping her crush on Xander secret since the day the young man had first shown up at their home and certainly wasn't right now. Honestly she found it cute and, while she'd entertained the idea of Buffy getting together with him, she'd realized halfway through their first year in Sunnydale that her eldest only saw him as a friend. As far as Dawn pursuing a romantic relationship with him, she only had two conditions that absolutely needed to be met before she'd give her consent. First her daughter had to wait until she was at least halfway through senior year since by then they'd probably know if the crush was actually love or not. The second condition being that the two of them would wait before engaging in anything… physically intimate until there was no danger of Xander going to jail for it.

While this wasn't entirely met with satisfaction, Dawn had conceded, though she wouldn't put it past her youngest to try to sneak what she could should the opportunity present itself.

That was why she deliberately arranged for moments when Dawn thought she was gone to give her that 'opportunity', only to show up at just the right time. Do it enough times and even the most ambitious of young women would be too nervous to try something.

"Well, I'm sure we can find something at that new costume shop that opened last week," she said as they turned the corner.

She'd originally considered taking her girl to 'Party Town' since it had a long standing reputation in Sunnydale but unfortunately her first solo visit there turned out to be the last. The costumes in the place were quite nice but one look at the price tag had stalled her in her tracks and the attitudes of the store staff had sealed the deal. Honestly they reminded her of every rich client she'd ever had to deal with and how they looked down on those whose yearly income didn't fall into the six figures. Quite frankly it'd been enough to drive her to deliver a few snappish comments before leaving. She'd looked for another costume shop but the only one she could find was the new one that'd opened last week. She hadn't been able to find the free time to visit the place before now but she'd just have to hope for the best.

When they arrived at the new store she had to say that its simple outer design won it some points since it meant that the owner didn't value appearance too much. Oh, appearances were an important part of any business since it is what drew in the customers but the rich valued it too much at the expense of basic decency. Pulling the front door open she and her daughter entered to find themselves in your typical store interior with costumes on racks, bins of accessories and small cardboard boxes of various Halloween merchandise. She could even see a section with various containers of body paints, costume contact lenses and wigs of just about every color she could think of. All in all it was clear that the owner of the establishment was doing his or her best to have everything a Halloween fan might want to look their best on that one night a year. When she walked over to the closest costume she was also pleased to see that for the quality the owner was offering the prices weren't all that unreasonable.

"This place looks AWESOME!" Dawn exclaimed her head swiveling around to see everything as quickly as possible. "Can I go take a look around, Mom?"

"Sure, honey. Just make sure not to get too carried away with your choice," she said, mentally thinking about how best to word her warning, "Remember that forcing a certain look to get a certain reaction can backfire on you."

"Sure thing!" Dawn said, obviously not having paid attention to anything that had been said after 'sure'.

Chuckling a bit she began to wander the store, looking at the various costumes while internally debating whether or not to get one for herself. She was hosting a small party at the gallery and had indicated that costumes could be worn but until now she'd only planned on a simple ghost costume or maybe using her makeup for something zombie-like. Gazing upon what the shop had to offer, though, she began to entertain the possibility of going just a little bit further with her costume. She was, after all, the hostess of the party and so it was mandatory that her outfit rank at least in the top three of those worn Halloween night.

The question was what to dress up as.

On the one hand wearing something tasteful and modest would be fitting for a woman of her years and make the right impression as the owner of the gallery, as well as the host of the party. Unlike some of the hostesses at other gallery get togethers, she didn't have the need to be the center of attention and blind the guests with how superior she was to them. On the other hand, though, she'd overheard Buffy talk about how Halloween was the one night a year when someone could really let their hair down with zero repercussions. While not as optimistic as her eldest, she had to admit that on Halloween night, depending on your costume, you could get away with quite a bit, especially if you wore something to hide your face. It could be a mask, face paint done just right or even a fake rubber nose. Feeling a little bit of excitement at the prospect of doing something so out of character for the normally respectable gallery owner and single mother of two, she took increased interest in the costumes hung on racks around her.

Witches, goblins and a few superheroine costumes were to be seen but none of them felt quite right to her. While she might be interested in breaking out of her usual role for a night she wasn't about to embarrass herself by choosing something unsuitable for a woman her age.

It wasn't until she noticed a black outfit hanging on the edge of a rack that she felt the ping of interest spike higher than normal. Walking over, she took it off the rack and held it out in front of her to get a better look at it. There was a LOT of leather involved, along with some gray accessories, but when she imagined herself wearing it she found that she liked the image. It was definitely outside of what her daughters would ever expect her to wear and would be unique amongst the other guests at the gallery. Still… it needed a little something to truly clinch it for the win.

Carrying the costume with her, she strolled further through the costume shop looking for anything that caught her eye as something that just might fit the bill in terms of a finishing touch. However it wasn't until she came to the wig section that she believed she had found what she was looking for. While she maintained her hair as well as any woman, it definitely gave off an air of restraint and propriety both of which would not do for tonight. If she could find something her that was a little more WILD and UNTAMABLE then, when added to the costume in hand, she'd truly be someone else for tonight.

_No… no… no… YES!_ she thought before plucking up a wig that would drop down to just past her shoulders. _This'll do nicely._

She'd still need to add a few touch ups and maybe a little makeup but she was certain she could accomplish her goal for Halloween night.

"Hey Mom! You find something?" came the voice of her youngest daughter, causing her to hide the pieces of her costume behind her back as she turned to meet Dawn.

"Yeah… a little something for the party at the art gallery," she replied, not wanting anyone to see it until she was ready to show it off. "How about you?"

"I think so. I saw something but the store guy said he had something more my size in the back," Dawn replied even as she tried to sneak around her to get a better look at what she was hiding.

Fortunately for her this wasn't the first time she and her daughter had played keep away so she knew most of her tricks well. It took a couple of minutes before Dawn gave up and so they waited for the 'store guy' to return with the costume. Five minutes later a black haired man with a smile on his face approached with a garment bag in hand, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Here you are, young lady!" the man said, handing over the bag. "You're quite lucky. My supplier only provided me with one of those in your size. The rest you'd have to grow into over the course of a couple of years."

"What is it?" she asked, unable to see anything given the bag's lack of transparency.

"A steam punk demon hunter!" Dawn crowed, looking quite happy with how things had turned out. "The other one looked so COOL, Mom!"

"Quite right. Now the costume only came with two prop weapons," the store guy said with a bit of regret. "If you want something more you'll have to get it yourself."

"Don't worry. I got a couple of ideas that'll work," Dawn said, not sounding discouraged in the least.

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to have a big mess to clean up before you go trick or treating?" she asked rhetorically with a sigh of acceptance.

"It won't be that big of a mess, Mom," Dawn said with a roll of her eyes. "Just a bit of glue and some odds and ends. Promise."

Famous last words.

_**UCS Dorm**_

_**Hallway**_

_**Buffy's POV**_

"Buffy, are you sure about this?" Willow asked for the third time since she'd turned them away from the new costume shop that'd opened up.

"Definitely! I've been coming at this from completely the wrong angle," she said as she looked for the door number that'd been on the paper posted to the town bulletin board. "If I want to totally wow Angel, I can't go as some girl from his time. It'll just remind him of everything he's lost or what he used to be. It'll totally drop a wet blanket on the entire evening!"

Originally when she'd started planning for Halloween, she'd intended to get a dress in the same style as the girls from Angel's time so she could be something other than the Slayer and impress him. She'd even managed to get some old Watcher diaries from Giles' office so she could see what they looked like. They'd… they'd looked so fancy and beautiful and high society-ish that she'd felt intimidated as well as unsure if she could pull off something similar. School had let out a half hour ago and she'd gone with Willow to a new store that'd opened up in the hopes of finding a dress similar to the ones in the diary. However before they'd gotten to the door she'd had her epiphany and realized that dressing up as a noblewoman from the time when Angel was human was a BIG mistake. No one wanted to be reminded of what they used to be and had once possessed only for it to be torn away by an explosion of bad luck. It'd been then that she'd spotted the paper advertising unique costumes and assistance with makeup on the town bulletin board. There had even been a few pictures showing what they had to offer and one in particular called out to her.

It looked like the sort of outfit you'd see mythical beings wear in a land of dwarves and armored knights and in her mind it gave her a perfect idea for her costume.

"And this'll improve things how?" Willow asked, idly glancing for the door they were looking for.

"Because an elf is supposed to be immortal, or close enough that it doesn't matter. If I dress up as one I'll be totally hot looking and it'll let him know I'll be around for as long as he is," she replied, finally spotting with her Slayer eyes the door they wanted at the end of the hallway. "After all, the big suck about being immortal is you gotta watch the people you care about die while you stay in your prime. With a little pretending maybe it won't be so bad for one night."

Indeed the outfit she'd seen in one of the pictures on the flyer had been exquisite in her opinion and definitely something you'd expect to find in the wardrobe of a major theatre. It didn't look like some cheap or poorly put together outfit an amateur or some comic book convention person would go in, but rather something made by someone with serious attention to detail. Added to the smaller pictures showing various costume and make up pieces and she'd had no trouble at all coming up with the elf idea. She'd seen pictures before from movies and on the covers of certain books so she could say that she'd definitely look pretty hot dressed up as one.

Plus, with a little bit of luck, they could find something for Willow, too.

Since she'd first met the redhead she'd had the desire to help the girl become the best that she could be while also coming out of the geeky shell that her friend had obviously been in for most of her life. It'd been hard with the serious self-image issues but she'd been making progress and then there'd been her discovery of the crush on Xander. Being a romantic at heart she'd leapt on the idea of getting those two together romantically since she wanted someone to be able to enjoy the bliss of the sort of relationship she couldn't have thanks to being the Slayer. The only problems were that Willow was too timid to make a bold move in the right direction and Xander just saw the redhead as a friend, or at worst as a sibling. She had to seriously put some cracks in both issues if there was any progress to be made and Halloween was the perfect time for it. Halloween was the one night a year when a girl could get wild and sexy without having to worry about it giving her trouble the rest of the year.

If she could get Willow into a somewhat sexy outfit, something that'd make Xander wake up and smell the hottie, then it'd be a major victory.

"Here it is," she said, arriving at the door before knocking three times.

"Yeah?" came a teenage girl voice from the other side that gave the impression that she was a smoker.

"We're here about the costumes and make up flyers," she replied loud enough to be heard through the door.

"'Kay. Just give me a second," the girl said before the sounds of things getting moved could be heard.

A couple of minutes later the door opened to show a college girl who definitely liked defying convention and had a hobby of using her own body as a canvas for her art. It wasn't ugly per se, just decidedly different than the majority of what you usually saw in the majority of American high schools.

The student gave both her and Willow the once over before gesturing for them to follow her back into her dorm room. Grabbing a chair, the girl turned it around back forward before sitting down on it, facing both of her prospective customers.

"So what're you lookin' for and when's it gotta be done by?" the college girl asked a bit bluntly, with only a bit of alpha female coming out.

It fit with her look and it wasn't like she planned on being friends with the girl so she let it slide.

"Do you still have that green outfit from the flyer or could you make another one in time for Halloween night?" she asked, getting straight to the costume she wanted.

"Still got the original one," the college girl said before giving her one more look over. "Probably have to adjust it since it's got four inches on you. Wanna go as an elf?"

"Yep," she replied, glad that the costume maker had figured it out quickly.

"Cool. Got the fake ears and some other shit that'd go perfect with it. It'll take some prep time to get it on right so you'd have to swing by at least an hour and a half before whatever part you're going to is," costume girl said, sounding like she'd caught her stride. "That cool?"

"Sure," she replied even as she tried to think up a way to convince Giles to get her out of class early.

After all, herr Snyder wanted them to all be at school by four to pick up their batch of brats so that meant she'd need to come by two in the afternoon at the latest. It was a full half hour before classes officially let out and she knew that without official permission from a faculty member Snyder would be all over them before they made it ten steps towards the front doors.

"What about you, Red?" costume girl asked, looking a little annoyed by Willow's timid behavior.

"Um… well… maybe… a ghost?" Willow asked, sounding a little hopeful that she'd get what she wanted so she could run back to her comfort zone.

She almost groaned at her best friend's costume choice since it was easy as could be to see that the smartest girl in school wanted to hide under a sheet. That would NEVER work if she wanted to get Xander's attention and make him see her as dating material. He needed to see the curves, he needed to see the tasteful application of makeup and anything else that'd shatter his sister/friend image of Willow.

"You don't need me for that. A bed sheet with some holes for your eyes'll do fine," Costume girl said a bit harshly at the waste of her time.

She needed to take this situation by the horns before Willow managed to cheese off the person in charge of their outfits.

"Yeah but it doesn't need to be an off the rack ghost costume," she said, trying to make things seem better than it appeared. "You can tweak it here and there. Make it more slinky and sexy looking. My friend's a little shy as you can probably see and we're trying to fix that."

Willow looked a little alarmed but not enough to say anything but the wide eyes told it all. As for costume girl, she took on a more considering look before gesturing for Willow to stand in the middle of the room. Doing as directed the prodigy of Sunnydale High stood there, unsure of the scrutiny she was receiving and, when the gesture to turn around in a circle happened, she did it unsteadily.

"So, slinky and sexy but not so much that she'll pop a blood vessel from the going all tomato-like," Costume girl said with a very small smirk on her face. "I can work with that. It'll partly be from scratch since most of the sexy ghost outfits I got would probably double as swimwear. Makeup'll be easy enough, bit of white and grey, so I can probably do it while waiting for your shit to finish gluing right."

That sounded good and it gave her hope that both her plans would work out good.

"Okay, you both pass. Now hand over the cash for the job. This ain't no charity," Costume girl said, holding out her hand.

Reaching into her pocket, she took out the money she'd taken with her for her costume and counted out the amount that'd been listed in the flyer. It was nice that it was only a set price rather than something that could go up or down depending on the difficulty of the costume since she had a feeling that her elf idea would probably not have been cheap. Counting out the amount, she handed over the cash and was only a little annoyed when costume girl counted it again to make sure it was all there. The college girl had some serious trust issues. Still, when the same was done to Willow's handful of money, she took some solace in that it wasn't just her that costume girl had trust issues with.

"Your costumes'll be ready by noon tomorrow. Make sure to watch the time 'cause the make-up can't be rushed," Costume girl said before pointing at the door. "Now get out."

Definitely someone who needs to work on her social skills.

Doing as bade, the two of them left the college girl's dorm room, hearing the door close behind them before they began to head for the main entrance. Glancing in Willow's direction, she could tell that her friend was uneasy about the costume she'd wind up having to wear but she remained firm in her belief that it needed to be done. While some people might think that it was best to have shy people come out of their shells at their own pace, she knew that if she did that with Willow the two of them would be in a nursing home by the time the redhead fully came out. No, the best course of action was to go with the band aid method and just helping her friend with temporary discomfort that followed. Eventually Willow would get used to it and it'd feel almost natural.

Hopefully by that point Xander would see his best friend as something more than that.

He would if she had anything to say about it.

_**Ethan's Costume Shop**_

_**Halloween Day**_

_**Xander's POV**_

_Glad Buffy and the others aren't here,_ he thought as he looked from costume to costume. _They won't get a chance to see how poor I am._

It was his greatest secret, the fact that his family was barely making ends meet, and the reasons behind it brought him nothing but shame. True, there were many reasons for a family to be barely keeping their head above water financially but being incompetent and spending what money you do have on booze were right there at the bottom. If Tony and Jessica Harris would only take in the full grasp of their savings and ration it out better then maybe they could afford to do better. Maybe he'd be able to afford better clothes, better things, so he wouldn't have to come up with lies to cover for why he couldn't afford to do the same things others did.

But expecting his DNA donators to see the error of their ways was like expecting the sun not to rise the next day.

They'd never change their ways no matter how appealing he made the offer.

Therefore, until he graduated and got a job that paid well enough for him to be able to afford to live on his own, he had no choice but to play things close to his vest even around his friends.

That was why he now looked about the shop for anything that would do for a Halloween costume while still being within his meager budget. Price tag after price tag he checked but each time it was proven to be too much When he checked the accessory bins he found the prices on them to be more reasonable but an accessory did not a costume make. He needed something… MORE, but he was at a loss as to what that might be.

"Can I help you young man?" a British voice asked, causing him to whirl around.

What he saw was a man in his late thirties or early fifties with black hair and dressed in semi-formal clothes. With a smile that implied much humor, it looked like the man intended to offer aid and he could certainly use it.

"Don't DO that!" he exclaimed, shaking off the surprise of the man speaking without any sign of approach. "Especially not in this town."

"Sorry, dear boy. I'm afraid it's something of a habit for me," the man said, never losing his smile at the words spoken. "A youth spent sneaking out of the house at night without my parents being aware I'd gone out. Now, can I help you with something?"

"I'm looking for a costume but school bills have picked my wallet almost completely clean," he said, using the true and tested lie to cover up the truth. "Any ideas?"

"Ah, yes! I remember those times well myself when I was younger," the man said with mock fondness. "Well, I do believe I have a few costumes I could let go for a lesser price. A satisfied customer, after all, is more likely to return than a customer turned away because they lacked sufficient funds. Did you have anything in mind?"

Did he? Not really. Even though he was tempted to go with a superhero outfit, he reluctantly had to admit that, after several looks in the mirror the last couple of mornings, he didn't have the muscles to make it work. A soldier, perhaps? He didn't see any uniforms of rank there and he doubted that the local army surplus store had any officer uniforms for sale. Even if going as a simple grunt would do for one night, he could imagine how Larry's group and Cordelia's clique would cut into him with their words of ridicule or insult. They'd probably say something about how a lowly private was the best he could ever hope for or how fitting it was that he was dressed up as someone trained to take orders.

No, if anything he wanted to prove to them and to himself that he could be more than they ever thought possible. That he could indeed rise above them if he worked hard enough despite his meager beginnings. What would best exemplify that? What would make it clear to anyone who looked at him that he intended to rise above their expectations of him? Possibility after possibility crossed his mind but he chose something that would meet his needs but not be too far out there for people to accept.

"Do you have a doctor's coat? Maybe a bag to carry surgical stuff?" he asked, the idea gaining greater definition in his mind.

"Hmmm… perhaps. You mean to go as a doctor?" the man asked with a raised eyebrow of curiosity.

"Yeah. A surgeon. Those are the ones that get paid a lot, right?" he asked, possessing only vague memories of medical dramas and movies with hospital scenes in them.

"They are a wide variety of types when it comes to the profession of surgeon and some do pay more than others. I'm afraid that I do not know the specifics," the man replied, looking to be half in thought. "Hmmmm… I think I might have something to suit your needs out back. Give me a moment."

Watching as the man walked away, he spent his time seeing if he could identify anyone in the store. He spotted a few of the people that'd gotten roped into chaperoning the kids as well as a few that were probably going to The Bronze, but no one he could put a specific name to. As one of the school outcasts, making friends was difficult for him since it was almost a universal constant that teenagers wanted to fit in or belong to one of the popular cliques that made up the student body. As such whenever he tried to get to know a new student, it never lasted because, as soon as the jocks or the rich girls made it clear that there'd be a stigma attached to such a friendship, the newbies left him. The only ones to stay by his side were his fellow outcasts Willow and Jesse.

Ting-a-ling!

Turning to see who'd come in the door, he was somewhat surprised to see Cordelia walking in wearing what the rich girl probably thought was a good disguise: A scarf covered most of her hair, a pair of black lens sunglasses, and a raggedy coat completing the ensemble.

Honestly she stuck out like a very colorful sore thumb.

He was also left wondering what she was doing here since, as far as he knew, the rich girls only shopped at the most expensive stories in Sunnydale because going anywhere else would be embarrassing. The only thing that made sense was that Party Town, the unquestioned most expensive costume shop in town, had lost the costume Cordy had wanted.

That or her parents had for some reason clamped down on the rich girl's source of funds, forcing the captain of the cheerleading squad to dumpster dive for a costume.

Oddly enough he found himself preferring the latter because anything that ruined Cordelia's day gave him a serious happy.

"Well here we are, young man!" the store guy said with glee as he returned with an old school doctor's bag and a white doctor's coat, complete with a name tag hanging from the right breast pocket. "One outfit fit to belong to a surgeon. I threw in whatever fake medical tools I could find in a prop box out back as well. All you should need now is a dress shirt and some passable pants but make sure they're wrinkled a bit."

"Not that it's going to be a problem but why wrinkled?" he asked, remembering the usual state of his wardrobe.

"Simple: the more in demand doctors are, the less sleep they get. This causes them to take naps whenever and wherever they can without changing into their jammies," the store guy replied, sounding happy to be helpful. "So unless you want to tell your friends you're a surgeon who spends most of his time trying to see how many sharpened pencils you can stick into a ceiling, wrinkled clothes are a must."

Made sense.

Also coming up with a two minute back story for the outfit would probably be necessary if any of the tiny tots he'd be chaperoning asked questions along the way. Taking a second look at the white doctor's coat, he could see that the fabric it was made out of was definitely not wrinkle free stuff but, when he laid his eyes on the nametag, he spotted something odd.

It looked official enough with emblems and the right format but there was just one thing wrong with it.

"The name tag's in another language," he said, pointing out the discrepancy to the store guy.

He didn't know what the language was but it definitely wasn't English even if the letters were pretty much identical to what you'd seen in an American newspaper.

"True, but it's not like someone's going to cite a Halloween costume violation or really look all that close," the store guy said, looking at the tag for a moment.

True. In fact he'd consider it downright weird if someone did get all finicky about costume accuracy or even notice the anomaly.

Thus with a shrug he followed the man to the cash register to pay for the outfit and, much to his surprise, he had enough money left over to get a Twinkie from the convenience store nearby.

Talk about a win-win day!

_**Ethan's Costume Shop**_

_**Around 4:30pm**_

_**Ethan's POV**_

_Thank BLOODY GOD that's over with!_ he thought, hearing the click of the front door's lock slide into place. _If I had to keep that barmy smile on my face a minute longer I'd have gone completely nutters._

While it might've been part of what he had planned, it still hadn't been his idea of fun to play the polite shop keeper for eight hours a day for the last week. Still, it was necessary to make sure that as many people bought something from his shop as possible so that when the curtain went up he'd get the most bang for his buck. As it stood he'd hit a bit of good luck in that some of the locals were in the business of making costumes for others and doing the makeup as well when requested. As a result he'd sold quite a few bits and pieces along with enough costume make up to almost clean him out. Given that he'd done his best to make sure everything he had to offer possessed a strong enchanted connection to the Janus Halloween spell, it'd result in double the number of 'participants' night.

His patron deity would eat well tonight!

His only bit of disappointment on that side of things was that he hadn't been able to wrangle the local Slayer into his bit of fun. Oh, he knew that there was no way that his old chum Rupert would get in on the dressing up but it would've made his bit of fun all the better of the Watcher's charge was caught up in tonight's excitement. It would've riled up the 'librarian' even more, making it that much more entertaining when Rupert followed the breadcrumbs he'd planted to his little shop so that they could have a little chat.

Still, he'd managed to get one of the Slayer's group, her other two family members, a light acquaintance of the Slayer's group and a woman Ripper seemed to be a bit sweet on, so he supposed that that would have to do.

Dropping the curtains on all the windows, he then strode for the back room where he had everything he'd need for the spell. While it would've been nice to have everything already set to go, some of the ingredients didn't last long once exposed to air and past a certain quality level became useless. Still, if he was right, the celestial bodies and arcane forces would hit their peak an hour or so after sunset so there was plenty of time to get everything ready. This wasn't, after all, the first time he'd performed his spell, so he had a solid grasp in his mind of how long the prep work would take and how long he'd have to unleash the magic before everything went to crap.

_If I want the spell to activate as soon as possible then it'll be at five thirty,_ he thought, recalling the sunset time he'd seen in the local newspaper. _That means I have about twenty minutes or so before I have to start putting everything into place._

Deciding a review would do him wonders, he thought of all he'd learned since he'd learned of Sunnydale and his old mate Rupert setting up shop there. It'd been a passing discovery, nothing intentional, as he'd sought out a new location for his bit of fun but it'd cemented his choice to give Sunnydale a try. Everyone in the supernatural community knew of Boca Del Inferno, as well as the things that tended to happen there, so he believed it'd make for an interesting bit of seasoning to his fun. As he'd gotten within a day's drive of the small but interesting town that he'd learned his destination had a king. More than that it was HIGHLY recommended that anyone looking to do business on Boca Del Inferno pay their proper respects AND get permission. The stories he'd heard of what happened to those who ignored the king's authority had been enough to freeze even his mischief-minded soul.

The meeting itself had been pleasant enough and the man himself, the mayor of the town, had been like character right out of 'Leave it to Beaver'. Nevertheless there'd been no mistaking the power of the man and the fatal certainty of what'd happen if his ire were ever provoked. Thus he'd toned down the playfulness a LOT and laid out his plans for Halloween. Letting the mayor know about his connection to Rupert was a bit of a gamble but at the end of the briefing he'd been given the go ahead to proceed.

The final warning: nothing was to be permanent.

All those who were changed by the spell were to revert back to their normal selves when it came to an end.

_Clearly a man who likes to keep his proverbial house in order,_ he thought, picking up the book containing the specifics of the Halloween spell.

How stifling.

Still, he had taken the warning to heart… for the most part. Every item in his store had indeed been enchanted so that the changes to those who used them would only last the night… individually, at the very least. Being a chaos worshipper for several years, he was no stranger to danger and, truth be told, he loved the rush of adrenaline that came with knowing he skirted close to edge. That being said he wasn't the suicidal sort, either. He always took at least SOME care to prevent himself from coming to a messy end and ALWAYS had an escape route planned out in case things turned sour.

Only after he'd been satisfied that his escape plan was foolproof, even when taking the mayor into account, did he decide to do something to push the limits of what was 'permitted'. For most of the items a single one being used would invoke the change but it would burn off with the coming of dawn. However he'd rigged it so the greater the number of items employed in a single costume the greater the grip Janus' magic would have on the person. Then, in the case of those he'd positively identified as belonging to the Slayer's group, he'd added a little extra to the mix in order to push the odds even further of there being retention of traits.

If the mayor took issue with this he could simply say that it was chaos magic's nature asserting itself or Janus himself deciding to step in to make things more amusing. If that failed… that was what the escape plan was for. Being a student of magic for quite some time, he'd heard of all the usual methods of protecting one's own territory, controlling it and turning it against invaders seeking to cause trouble. He'd even learned during the course of his travels of a few of the more exotic methods of warding what belonged to you against enemies. As such the escape plan he'd put together held the best possible odds for seeing him to safety should Ripper find him or the Mayor, should his knowing breach of the rules become known.

It wasn't the foolproof 'no way can it fail' sort of contingency plan he preferred but anything stronger might've tipped off the mayor.

As it was, he'd had to employ every sleight of hand and misdirection trick he knew to place each component of his escape plan in the required locations.

As for the changed among Rippers current 'friends' becoming a little bit upset at their newest circumstances and choosing to seek him out for retribution, he wasn't TOO worried. From what he'd seen, none of those who'd entered his store had chosen costumes that would bestow upon them attributes that he would be helpless to overcome. Each of them had chosen something that either made modern technology seem like magic to them or was so different from what they were used to so as to make it useless. As for the non-technological methods of pursuit, he was confident that the clashing of rules, the fictional butting heads with factual, would leave it to luck alone to decide his fate.

When it came to luck, it was a factor that was on first name terms with chaos.

He was confident that with the feast he would be providing his Lord Janus with that the Roman god would shield him from pursuit if for no other reason than to duplicate the meal.

_Best get started with the preparations,_ he thought, looking at the clock to find that time had passed. _Nobody likes having to wait for their meals._

_**Rupert Giles' Apartment/Flat**_

_**A Little Under An Hour Before Sunrise**_

_**Jenny Calendar's POV**_

"I do not know how you talked me into this," Rupert said even as he finished securing the belt carrying his 'weapons' to his waist.

"I used my wits, my charm and my feminine wiles, of course," she said, standing near the door in her own costume.

Indeed the costume that she'd gotten from Lexi had done much to flatter her figure and she'd definitely provoked some lust in Rupert if the prudish reaction was anything to go by. She had to admit that the dress looked a lot more like something a gymnast would wear with a skirt tacked on for fun, but with the wig it made for a great costume. As for what she and her cousin had settled on for Rupert's costume, it was something akin to a World War era monster hunter. The coat was definitely of that era going from shoulder to shin on the librarian and, to further fit the identity, tools of monster hunting weapons of various sorts were added. Some came from Rupert's own collection but others Lexi got from the local costume shops. Some looked like they came from a steampunk novel while others were more modern in nature, but all fit with the costume personae. As a finishing touch she'd grabbed a couple of nick-knacks from Rupert's apartment before putting them in pockets or wrapping them around the equipment belts.

"Ah. Of course," Rupert said, adjusting the belt's position before looking at her. "I trust I meet with your satisfaction then?"

"Definitely," she said, taking in how the costume laid on the librarian and overall aura it gave off.

Gone was the stuffy tweediness of his usual librarian attire and in its place was something… dangerous, exciting and it was something she truly believed suited her potential boyfriend. Now if only his employers would see the wisdom in updating their methods, perhaps the war with the darkness could finally begin marching swiftly towards victory.

Yes, she knew what Rupert was and who he worked for, and had known from the moment she'd arrived in Sunnydale.

Her clan had been quite thorough in mapping the supernatural topography of Sunnydale, with special emphasis on those that could interfere with their vengeance. One of those potential threats had been the Watchers Council, known far and wide for their intolerant attitudes regarding nonhuman and demonic races. While intelligent enough to know that they could not fight all those not human in nature, those that they could attack and kill they did so without mercy or hesitation. Naturally vampires were put on that list as a clear and present threat and therefore it was anticipated that they might order the slaying of Angelus or, as he was known currently, Angel.

Personally she believed that dusting the vampire to be the most practical course of action but ever did the clan speak to her of her duty to VENGEANCE. To them Angelus' suffering must be as eternal as their own and that meant that no one was permitted to end the vampire's life under any circumstances. Thus, when it was learned that a Watcher and a Slayer were in the same town, the plan was hatched for her to become a teacher at the same school as the two in order to keep a close watch on them. By watching them she would know the moment they chose to take action against Angelus and could counter anything they tried, even if the most she could do was warn the vampire so that it could flee.

However time had shown her that Angel was not the same monster told to her by the elders and that the vampire with a soul had even helped the Slayer in her fight against evil. She'd even learned of his reasons for doing so, to atone for the sins committed by demonic spirit inside of him, and found that to be admirable. For normal people this might be enough to warrant a review of the clan's vengeance, if only because the ones who originally began it were long dead. She could not blame those who originally lost their precious daughter, sister or mother for seeking out their vengeance but she did not approve of their descendants being forced to perpetuate it out of some sense of duty.

Vengeance was a living and breathing thing that must be serviced her Uncle Enyos would often say to those who questioned the customs of their clan.

Truthfully she was sick of hearing of vengeance.

She wanted her own life but at the same time the thought of being separated from her clan for the rest of her life was too painful to consider defying the elders without something to take its place.

"Well then, shall we go?" Rupert asked, sounding like he was bracing himself for something he was uncomfortable with.

Unsurprising since she doubted that the man had spent much time with the younger generation outside of his charge, her friends and those he was obligated to interact with as librarian. The plan though was for the two of them to go to the haunted house that'd been set up on UCS campus and experience all it had to offer. Lexi seemed to think that it'd be a blast and had said that she might join them later if her idea for a costume worked out like she hoped it would.

"Yes…" she replied, reaching out to hook one of her arms around one of his, "…I think we shall."

With that the two of them left English's apartment and proceeded to walk towards UCS campus, deciding that it'd be nice to see how the rest of Sunnydale was dressing up for Halloween. One of the things she'd enjoyed about Halloween from a young age was the creativity and the variety of the costumes that there were to be seen. Not everyone went for store bought costumes and some literally made their own costumes from the raw materials on up.

As they walked along she could see Rupert cringe at some costumes worn by the people on the streets while for others there was a clear look of approval. Usually the latter occurred whenever the Watcher saw someone dressed up as something from classical literature or world-renowned plays, whereas the former happened with more contemporary pop culture elements. She had to snort with amusement at this since it only reinforced the idea that Rupert only cared for things of the past and generally avoided what the young considered 'cool'. Some of that she could attribute to being a Watcher but the rest she could only presume came from the whole 'generation gap' phenomena that everyone experienced once they passed a certain age. Some adults handled it better than others but most just accepted the differences as something that would not be overcome but rather accepted.

By the time that they reached the UCS campus, she liked to think that the librarian slash Watcher had seen enough good costumes to cause the man to reevaluate his opinion on the interests of American youth. When they arrived at the haunted house they could see that there was already quite a bit of people there, ranging from faculty to students to people who were from Sunnydale. What surprised her, though, was the fact that some circus-styled stalls were set up in front of it, with various games available for a dollar a try. With various prizes hanging on the walls of the stalls it occurred to her that perhaps they could do a few of those and then leave the haunted house as the finale for the evening before turning in for the night.

"How's your throwing arm, English?" she asked nodding towards the classic stacked bottles and tennis balls game.

"While I am not as familiar with baseball as most Americans, I'll you know I was quite the good bowler on the university cricket team." Rupert replied, sounding quite confident in his skills.

"Prove it," she said before pulling him towards the indicated stall.

The person running it was dressed up as a stereotypical goth, or at least she thought it was a costume though the signs the passage of time made her question that. Maybe how the guy usually dressed was good enough to double as a costume.

"How much per try?" she asked, taking the lead.

"Two bucks," the young man said, sounding rather apathetic about… everything.

Reaching into the little purse she'd incorporated into the costume, she took out the money before handing it over to the stall employee. In return he handed her three tennis balls and with a smile she offered one of them to Rupert, a look of challenge on her face even though it probably came off as playful.

Plucking the ball from her hand, English tossed the ball up a few times, likely to get a feel for it, then, with a wind up that looked quite practiced, he threw it at the center stack of bottles. The sphere impacted but, while it succeeded in knocking two of the bottles to the ground, the third merely wobbled back and forth before settling back down an inch from where it'd started. Picking up the second tennis ball from her hand, Rupert took a more measured approach to his throw but his gaze made it clear that his target was the single remaining bottle of the original stack. A whip-fast pitch later and the last bottle fell to the ground but, since her potential future boyfriend still had one tennis ball to his try, she tossed it to him.

"Feel like you got one more in you?" she asked, happy with what he'd managed thus far.

"I'm not tired just yet," he replied with a cocky smile before setting his sights on the stack of bottles to the right of where the first one had been.

The final throw was smoother since the first two had worked to get the flaws out and succeeded in knocking the entire stack off to the ground below bringing, a smile to her face.

"You've won an item from the number two wall," the stall employee said, pointing halfheartedly at the numbered wall. "Thank you for playing."

"What is your pleasure, my lady?" Rupert asked with mock chivalry towards her.

Walking towards the wall, she looked at the various items hanging from it, seeing things ranging from cheap mini plastic swords to pins to decorated headbands. Letting her gaze pass over each item she weighed its value and for the most part she was focusing on the things that would build upon her current costume. After all none of the things she saw were made for practical, everyday use, so there was no point in choosing from that particular perspective. Finally she came upon a headband that, at its base, was the same color as the wig she'd put on but had a pair of wings coming out of it on either side not quite at ear level. Honestly it was childish and might even look silly on her but it was the best option she had out of all the things she could choose from.

"This one!" she said, taking it off of the wall before putting it on her head.

Feeling it act as an extra means of keeping the fake hair on her head, she turned to Rupert to show off her newest accessory but only got a light chuckle from him. Deciding that one good laugh deserved another, she fished out another two dollars before handing it over the stall owner and taking the offered tennis balls for herself. While she hadn't played sports in any way other than casual growing up, she was by no means a complete novice.

Hopefully she'd be able to win something equally amusing for him before she ran out of money.


	2. That which was has changed

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their respective creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my stories. Therefore please no lawsuits or similar legal action please because I can promise you that even if you bleed me dry you won't get enough to cover your legal fees.

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_**Summers Art Gallery**_

_**Sunset**_

_**Joyce Summers**__**' **__**POV**_

_I swear! Next time no more 'plus one' on the invitations, _she thought as she tried not to cringe at the sound of one particular voice.

When she'd organized this party, she'd naturally made up a list of artists and art dealers that she'd done business with before or would like to do business with in the future. She'd followed the usual format for the invitations, permitting the bringing of a date to the party since she knew that many of her guests had significant others they might wish to bring. She had not thought anything of it and indeed had been quite pleased when all but two of the people she'd invited sent replies that they'd be attending. The acceptance implied that they at least respected her business and at the most that they considered working with her to be good business. As such she'd been quite happy when she'd begun welcoming the guests a little under an hour ago.

Too bad one guest had to ruin things.

It wasn't his fault really. Juan Garcia was a prominent artist who had been struggling for the last five years to be recognized by the more established artists of his chosen style. That wasn't to say he wasn't successful in his own right but getting the respect of those artists who were considered the counterparts to NBA all stars was a major achievement. It meant that they acknowledged that the aspiring artist had the potential to one day become as good as they were and stand amongst them. She personally applauded his efforts and hoped that he did indeed achieve his dream one day.

His… 'date' for the evening, however, was managing to sour the entire mood of the party despite some commendable efforts by the more lighthearted people. Her name was Veronica Chambers and she was considered an up and coming model in Los Angeles who while still new had already made three appearances on television. As much as it hurt her to do so, she had to admit that the woman was more attractive than most ladies her age.

Her personality, however, could make ANYTHING on the planet shrivel up and recoil from her.

If it wasn't the elitist attitude that caused her to look down on just about everyone in the room, it was the attempts at being polite that came off as entirely insincere. Clearly Miss Chambers was someone who was used to being treated like a princess by those around her and getting away with it because she was considered more valuable than the majority of those around her. Right from the beginning she'd known that she didn't like the woman but, like any hostess, she'd kept things polite with a smile on her face. Whenever it became too bothersome to deal with the woman she'd politely stepped away, saying that she had to see to the other guests.

That usually got her at least ten to fifteen minutes of respite before something set Miss Chambers off on a tangent that could be heard from across the room.

At the moment she was doing her best not to chew the woman out for some of her more condescending comments but it was proving difficult. Judging from the looks on the faces of the others around them, she could tell that they weren't faring much better than her and definitely were happy that she was the one on the receiving end instead of them.

"I must say, Miss Summers, that it is truly remarkable what you've managed to do on such a limited budget," Miss Chambers said, sounding like she was impressed but also hinting that she'd seen MUCH better. "There's a quaintness to this place that's quite appealing."

"I'm glad you like it," she said, straining to keep her smile in place while preventing any cracks in the 'proper hostess' façade she had going for her.

"Indeed, and the food you prepared is unlike anything I have sampled before," Miss Chambers said as she walked over to the food tables. "You must be an absolute wizard in the kitchen."

"I try my best," she said, knowing the more negative ways that the words could be taken.

"Then your best must truly be great," Miss Chambers said with a smile. "After all, it's a universal rule that if you want superior food you need superior ingredients. To manage a feat such as this on a limited budget is truly impressive."

"You're too kind," she said, unable to keep at least a LITTLE of the strain from showing in her voice.

"Still, it's a shame that you haven't been able to find a new husband," Miss Chambers said with a bit of pity. "With only a small gallery as a source of money, I imagine that your daughters will be lucky to afford college at all."

"What do you know about my daughters?" she asked with no small amount of surprise.

"Oh, Juan told me about them on the way down from Los Angeles," Miss Chambers replied nonchalantly. "Raising two girls on your own after your divorce from your unfaithful husband. Here's hoping their ambitions prove to be as modest as your own. Less chance of disappointment that way."

"Mister Garcia's lack of respect for the personal history of others aside I don't see how my family is any of your business," she said with a chilled tone to show that a line had been crossed.

"Now, now, Miss Summers, no need to get all catty," Miss Chambers said, sounding like she was amused by the bit of spark that'd been shown. "There's nothing wrong with living an unremarkable life lost in the throng with all the rest. Much as some might like to believe that anyone can become great, the sad fact of the matter is that only a select group actually become the special celebrated few. Besides that, someone has to buy all the merchandise and go to all the concerts."

"Well, I can promise you, Miss Chambers, that I will not permit my daughters to buy anything or attend anything that involves you!" she said, unable to keep the polite hostess routine going. "You pampered, self-centered, egotistical and vindictive BITCH! The only thing good about you is the fact that you'll probably wind up another washed up loser in a couple years. Showbiz is fickle, after all."

"Better to be in the spotlight then a withered old crone who can't even keep one man happy!" Miss Chambers exclaimed, taking offense. "I wonder how hard it was for dear old Hank to trade up to someone prettier. Can't say I blame him if you're all he had to come home to. Probably made the right decision."

Anger surged within her as all the past insecurities and doubts and little bit of guilt she'd felt after discovering Hank's affair with his secretary came back to the forefront. Like most wives who discover their husband's infidelity, she'd asked herself question after question to determine why he'd done it. The love between spouses was supposed to be easily capable of standing the test of time and the thought of betraying that trust was supposed to be enough to cause an automatic rejection in the mind. So she'd wondered if it was perhaps something she'd done or not done that'd caused the love Hank had held for her to die. It wasn't just women, after all, who played the whole 'oh, you don't know what you did wrong? Really!?' card, making it sound like the other spouse should be telepathic. She didn't know how many times she'd gone over her memories but in the end she'd chosen to confront him about it while the girls were asleep.

She'd hoped that once Hank knew she knew about his affair he'd look guilty, remorseful, and then they could work to fix whatever was wrong with their marriage.

Instead what she'd gotten was a loud argument that she was surprised hadn't brought Buffy or Dawn downstairs to see what the commotion was about. The only bright spot had been that at the end they'd both had enough positive feelings inside of them to agree to see a marriage counselor. Weeks had passed and the progress had been rocky but it had been there so she'd been hopeful.

Then Buffy started acting strangely and getting into trouble at school. She'd brushed it off as simply being a teenage phase or that her eldest daughter was smart enough not to do anything stupid or that she should wait for something more incriminating. However when the fire occurred at her school and Buffy being labeled as the culprit, she'd cursed herself for not pursuing the truth more vigorously. When she'd asked her daughter why she'd done it, all she'd gotten was some outrageous stories about vampires and being some sort of chosen monster hunter. It was nonsense! The only workable explanation that either her or Hank could come up with was that Buffy was suffering from some sort of psychological issue. She'd wanted to keep her daughter home and use some of the books available to solve the problem in house but Hank had opposed this. He'd pointed out that neither of them were trained psychiatrists and that trying to help Buffy themselves with only books to help them might make things worse.

She'd wanted to refute this but, after he'd chipped away at her arguments one after another, she'd reluctantly conceded his point.

It'd been hell in the months that'd followed but she had been overjoyed when Buffy had finally confessed that she'd made it all up in response to her rocky marriage with Hank. Both Hank and the psychiatrist had been skeptical but, after a few days of examination, the doctor had concluded that Buffy's story was the truth after all.

Sadly that came as small comfort for Hank since already word had gotten around Los Angeles about Buffy burning down the high school gym. Jokes had been made along with comments and, in spite of all rational reason, it'd caused Hank some problems at work. In the end it'd been the straw that'd broken the camel's back and Hank had filed for divorce.

It'd taken her a long while to get over Hank and move on with her life but she'd done it and built a life for herself in Sunnydale.

She was NOT going to let some plastic surgeon's masterpiece tear it all down!

Without any warning she grabbed the nearest plate to her dominant hand and thrown its contents at the little strumpet.

It was quite satisfying indeed to see the numerous pieces of strawberry shortcake splatted over Miss Chambers' face and body.

"Guess that's another good decision," she said with vindictive satisfaction, "but then I guess you're used to sticky stuff on you. Part of your job, right?"

"Oh! IT IS ON!" Chambers said before splashing the contents of a wine glass in her face.

Not exactly how she'd expected the evening to go but she was going to teach this young bitch to respect her elders one way or another.

WHAP!

Though it was anyone's guess how much of her own food she'd have on her by the end of it.

* * *

_**Streets of Sunnydale**_

_**Ten Minutes after Sunset**_

_**Willow'**__**s POV**_

"Well, this isn't… bad." Xander said as they waited on the sidewalk for their groups of kids to return from the latest house. "I mean, we get to see some great costumes, got some props for our own and it'll all be over soon."

"I… guess," she said, still feeling a little anxious to be done with this so she could slip back into her normal clothes.

It wasn't that the costume she had on was poorly made or anything but it was too… clingy in some places and too short in others. Buffy, of course, had been all for it, saying that it made her look 'hot' and that Xander'd definitely notice her with it on. Technically it was a ghost costume but what it was a ghost of… well, the jury was still out on that. Buffy had called the costume the gods' gift to men ghost while she'd overheard one of the jocks say something about it being the ghost of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. Personally she thought it could be the costume of a risqué female escort that'd gotten mauled by a wild animal, seeing as how the clothes were seriously ripped up. She didn't think that she'd have anything to worry about as far as her costume staying on her body, but who knew what was getting exposed depending on how she moved.

Still, she had caught Xander looking at her a few times but he'd looked away too quickly for her to identify the expression on his face. Was it lust? Or was it just the usual 'does not compute' look he usually got when she nervously tried to skim the subject of them going on a date?

She didn't know, but the desire to find out was giving her the strength to keep going until their chaperoning was done and they all retired back to Buffy's place for some Halloween treats.

As for the other Scoobies, their costumes were pretty good, with Xander's being as simple as Buffy's was awe inspiring in how beautiful it made the Slayer look. She was seriously beginning to think that her friend had been right in that dressing up as an elf would do more to get Angel's engine revving than an old noblewoman's dress would've. As for Xander dressing up as a surgeon, she had to wonder if this might be a bit prophetic. No matter what others might think, she knew that her best friend and crush wasn't stupid. He was managing to getting passing grades in the same advanced placement classes that she was in and she was the smartest girl in Sunnydale High. If he would just apply himself more and believe in himself, she had every reason to believe that he'd eventually earn a genuine hospital badge identifying him as a surgeon.

Seeing the kids coming back from the house with smiles on their faces, those she could see at any rate, she had to smile a bit herself since she remembered what it was like coming back with a good haul of candy. She turned to look down the street to see if she could recall which houses unvisited would give the children the best treats to serve as the big finale but instead saw something that troubled her.

Troubled her greatly.

Walking towards her and the others was none other than Larry and a few of his friends from the football team. This wouldn't have been so bad if this had just been a chance encounter but the eyes of all of athletes were squarely focused on the three of them. Indeed, from the looks on their faces, it didn't take someone of her intelligence to figure out that they were spoiling to cause trouble. Given how Buffy had manhandled Larry in front of everyone in the student lounge area a few days ago, she imagined that the trouble had its roots in payback. One of the first things she'd learned since she came to Sunnydale High was that a person's reputation was their most valuable possession. A good one could keep you safe from the cliques while a great one might just get you an invite into one of the more popular ones.

A bad one got you ostracized from the rest of the student body and sometimes from people in the same boat as you.

"SUMMERS!" Larry yelled, instantly getting the blonde Slayer's attention. "You and me got some unfinished business."

"Oh? And what'd that be?" Buffy asked, not sounding worried in the least.

And why should she? She was strong enough to take down all of them without breaking a sweat.

"You using some sort of jujitsu crap to show me up at school," Larry growled in reply, making it clear that he didn't like the consequences of that moment. "That damaged my rep."

"You had a rep?" Buffy asked with mock surprise. "As something other than a brain dead jock that barely knew which end zone to run for? Color me surprised!"

"You've got a big mouth, Summers. Bet that came in handy back at your old high school," Larry said, his expression of anger only rising. "Must've made you real popular with the guys. Probably had them all lined up outside the washroom so they could have their turn with ya."

"I think you're referring to the type of girls you like, Larry," Buffy said, not flinching with the obvious implications. "Probably the only ones who'll give you the time of day 'cause no way is it for your conversation skills."

"You know something? Your right." Larry said, suddenly calming down with abnormal speed. "Actions speak louder than words. Boys!"

Immediately Buffy, Xander and her prepared themselves for Larry's friends to charge them in order to follow the orders of their boss. However, much to their confusion, none of the minions made a move, causing puzzlement to be the feeling no doubt shared amongst all the Scoobies. Why weren't they moving?

The answer came a moment later when she came under bombardment from some sort of projectiles that released some sort of viscous liquid on impact. It honestly reminded her of water balloons but whatever was inside of them was definitely not water, or more precisely not JUST water. Fortunately her many years of being bullied had ingrained certain responses into her, such as the need to cover your eyes whenever someone was using liquid as a weapon against you. The assault went on for a few more minutes before she heard sounds that told her that Buffy had gone after the source of water balloons and was kicking ass. Still, it was only when she heard Larry running away with the predictable 'this isn't over, Summers' parting word that she lowered her hands.

To say that she and the others were a mess would be putting it lightly.

Looking down at her body, it was pretty safe to say that her eyes were the only part of her not covered with what could only be described black sewage or slime. Her sense of touch told her that there wasn't a single part of her aside from her eyes that didn't have some on her and it seriously left her in need of a bath. It was also safe to say that she would need to put her costume in the washing machine before returning it to the college student that'd made it for her.

_I hope this stuff CAN be washed out! _he thought, not knowing enough about what precisely she'd been hit with to know if it'd permanently stained the costume or not.

Turning to Buffy, she was a little envious to see that, whether due to luck or her Slayer abilities, the blonde had managed to limit the gunk she'd gotten on her to her right leg and left hand. However the real damage was to the costume ears and nose that'd been secured to her friend's face with the same kind of glue they used in the movies. Somehow during the fight with Larry's minions both of the ears and the nose had gotten torn off, with the only thing still attached to her being the bits that had glue directly on them.

_Definitely not in returnable condition,_ she thought before turning to see how Xander was doing, only for her worry to spike.

Her best friend and crush had managed to block some of the hits with his hands but hadn't gotten them all, with one of them slamming right into the side of his face.

"Fucking assholes!" Xander growled as he tried to wipe the gunk off of his face and rub it out of his left eye.

"Xander! Stop!" she said immediately, moving to stop her friend. "We don't know what that stuff is. Let's get the kids back to the school so we can get you to the eye wash unit in the chemistry lab."

"Fine but FUCK it burns!" Xander growled as he stopped trying to rub his eye.

"Don't worry, Xan, we'll get back soon," Buffy said reassuringly. "Let's just round up our brats and get going."

Looking towards the house where the kids had gone to before Larry's group had shown up and saw them watching with wide eyes, a little fear and, oddly enough, some awe.

"Don't worry! It's all over," she said, trying to reassure them that everything was A-OK. "Let's get back to the school so you can get your folks to pick you all up."

However it was as she started walking towards them that she sensed something… strange… in the air and it was getting closer or getting stronger.

She wasn't sure.

Just as she was about to ask the others if they felt anything something swept over her…

…And all went to black.

* * *

_**The Higher Realm of Roman Olympus**_

_**Janus**__**' **__**POV**_

"Well now, let's see what Priest Rayne has to offer me this time," he mused as he reached out with power to tap into the minds of every mortal marked for the spell.

One by one he identified who or what the humans had dressed up as and, much like he'd anticipated, there was the usual mix of heroes and villains as well as ordinary occupations. A few original ideas but for the most part nothing that didn't have its roots in mortal entertainment and certainly nothing he hadn't brought into being during previous uses of this spell. The fact that the spell was being cast atop one of the more active Hellmouths was a plus since such areas were decidedly more malleable than the more magically neutral spots. With a bit of creativity he might be able to make the changes the spell asked of him more permanent and just flub off the entire event as the usual weirdness that occurred in such places if anyone questioned him.

So long as he kept any of his tells from showing, he'd be fine.

It was when he made contact with four of the mortals marked for the spell that he discovered potential that he hadn't been expecting. Two were blood relations of the current Slayer and the other two were acquaintances to one degree or another. While all four were touched strongly by the spell's enchantments, it was the spiritual bonds they had with another four that intrigued him the most. So few mortals realized that when one accepted another as a friend they established thin spiritual bonds that grew with time as well as emotional interaction. It was through bonds like those that a user of sorcery could cast a spell on one yet have the effects felt by more than one.

In this case, though, by channeling his power through those with a strong connection to the spell, he could ensure that the people the mortals had bonds with would be equally affected.

A total of ten people would be altered by what he planned on doing and there was no way those with authority over him would be able to hold him accountable afterwards.

He would gain much sustenance from the changes he would make tonight and it would only persist as time went on.

So without further delay he sent his power down to his four special points of contact and, once the changes began in them, he sought out the bonds connecting them to the other six. It was only when he had a link to all ten that he took in who, or rather what, they'd dressed up as to determine what he had to work with. A surgeon, an elf, a ghost, a witch of some sort, a world war demon hunter, a monster hunter, a biker, some kind of Japanese noble, something from a cartoon and a robot of some kind. Those costumes had some appeal but at the same time it lacked a certain spice. A certain… bite.

With this in mind he began to use his domain, his abilities, to sift through all the ways he could interpret the costumes until he found something with appealing possibilities. In the span of a few seconds, as mortals reckoned them, he successfully reviewed half a million variations and possibilities for his ten special mortals. Only after he reached a full million, though, had he found the creative interpretations that would maximize the changes and transitions that would put the most food on his proverbial table. Some were a bit… volatile and could easily wind up landing the consequences in the overkill region of punishments. So as a precaution against that he 'tweaked' some of the characteristics of the interpretations that could pose a problem if they got out of hand.

Still, he kept the changes to a minimum so as not to unnecessarily hinder the bounty he would obtain from his work.

Once all was ready he began the changes, going deep into his chosen mortals, until he reached the very core of their beings. He would allow them to remain who they were for the most part, since the mortal realm was quite a bit different from what the costume personalities were familiar with. However he made sure that enough of the memories, personalities and skills connected to the costumes took root in their minds to allow for rudimentary control of their newfound special abilities. If they had no control they could very easily get themselves killed or noticed by the wrong sort of people and then all his fun would be cut short.

It took almost all the time differential between Mount Olympus and the mortal realm for him to fully complete the changes but, when he was done, the end results were… one of a kind.

* * *

_**The Streets of Sunnydale**_

_**Michael Corvin**__**'**__**s POV**_

"W-where…" he gasped fighting to get his breathing under control.

His mind was a mess and every time he tried to piece together how he got from the docks in Budapest, on the river Danube, to wherever 'here' turned out to be, his brain couldn't give him an answer. It was as if the part of his brain where the memory had been stored had been damaged, eliminating the information beyond all recovery. However that shouldn't be possible, especially since he was no longer human in any way but appearance, and even then only when he wanted to look that way. He was a hybrid, a mix between a Vampire and a Lycan, created through Lucian's desire to avenge his beloved Sonja's death and his own lover's desire to save his life. Through this mixture he had the strengths of both Vampires and Lycans but none of the weaknesses either species had that usually led to their deaths.

As such, his hybrid regenerative abilities should have been enough to heal any brain damage he might have received in seconds.

_Maybe… maybe I got hit harder than I realized,_ he thought as he focused on the last conscious memory he had.

The docks… he'd been at the docks waiting for Selene to arrive so that they could both board the boat and sneak past the quarantine that the company Antigen and the local government had set up. Ever since the death of Alexander Corvinus and almost all of his followers, bits of truth had begun popping up into the local media. In all the years that followed Alexander achieving immortality and his twin sons gaining their own variation of it, the father had done all he could to keep the normal humans from discovering the truth. Using everything from amnesia-inducing compounds to the extreme of killing witnesses, all avenues were permissible so long as they could be relied upon to keep the secret safe. As human science and understanding advanced, the original immortal was able to refine his methods of keeping everything under wraps to the point where killing anyone became a rare occurrence.

Now Alexander and his people were dead, leaving no one to keep a lid on things and BOY did it show.

At first he and Selene had thought that it was just a temporary thing, that once the packs and the Covens realized the danger they'd clamp down on anything attention grabbing, but then it'd exploded into an all out Purge. Experts and politicians were treating that which made Vampires and Lycans, who they were, like a virus with any who had it being a carrier. In the beginning there'd been talk of looking for a cure for the infected but Selene had seen through to know the truth. With the number of discovered infected rising every day, the government and the citizens would grow increasingly afraid of what the future held for them. The death dealer expected that sooner rather than later, those in power would publically continue the search for a cure but privately order the termination of the infected.

Containment and elimination were the traditional courses of action for those people.

He remembered waiting at the docks for Selene to finish covering up their trail but, when she finally arrived, everything had gone to hell. A heavily armed police force arrived with weapons designed to kill both Vampires and Lycans and none of them were all that shy about using them. He remembered a cylinder slamming into his chest and sticking there but after that…

…Nothing.

Looking about his environment, he could tell he was back in America and, if the heat was any indicator, probably someplace on the west coast far enough down that snow wasn't an option. Looking down at himself, he was surprised to find himself wearing his work clothes for when he was an intern at Saint Istvan Hospital. He even had the equipment bag that his father had given him after he'd graduated from med school and, from the weight of it, his basic assortment of medical supplies were in there. He hadn't seen the bag, much less his old clothes, since the night Selene decided to interrogate him with the help of a wall. After what'd happened with Viktor, the two of them had left the city as quickly as they could with only the supplies that could be obtained in under twenty minutes.

"Well, this is new," he said, deciding that since his brain wasn't coming up with any ideas of how to get back to the docks or even where he was specifically, it was best to relax.

Either a clue as to how everything had happened would present itself allowing him to come up with some ideas or he'd come across a way to contact Selene so she could come to him.

"We agree. Even for the Hellmouth, this is weird," came a voice to his left that was slightly distorted with slight lisp.

Turning to see who spoke he found something that somehow managed to top a Lycan in their man-beast forms. Standing a few feet from him was an unmistakably female form but it was covered from head to toe with a substance that reminded him of black tar. With somewhat exaggerated physical features he found it a bit bizarre but the priority of his attention had to be the sharp looking tips of the fingers and the fact that the woman had a mouth that had the size as well as the teeth to bite his head off.

"Who… what are you?" he asked, not sure if he was looking at a friend, a foe or just someone caught up in the same mess as him.

"An interesting question," the being replied as it began to inspect its own hands. "Our instinct is to say 'Venom' but that would not be quite right. We might once have been Venom but however we came to be here it has changed us. We are different, our host is different, so we believe it is only appropriate that we take on a new name."

"And that'd be?" he asked, feeling a twinge of familiarity at the name 'Venom' but nothing was attached to the sensation.

"Hmmm… Angitia. Yes, goddess of snakes, healing and witchcraft," Angitia replied, nodding with satisfaction. "That will do."

Not an evil name per se but it did imply a level of overconfidence to use the name of a goddess. Still, he didn't see any reason to be worried as of yet so he'd stay polite.

"Any idea how we got here?" he asked, hoping that this other being would know more than him.

"No. We have no recollection of how we came to be here bonded to a new host," Angitia replied with a shake of her head. "One moment we were in Manhattan with our previous host, Eddie Brock, and the next we found ourselves wrapped around our new host. Given past experience, though, we suspect magic."

"Magic?" he asked, beginning to wonder if the being in front of him was touched in the head or if wherever she came from magic really did exist.

After all, previous to meeting Lucian and Selene, he'd thought that both of their races were the things of monster movies or campfire stories. If Lycans and Vampires turned out to be real, why not magic? Sure, both breeds came about as a result of a unique virus rather than some magical curse but the point was that just because everyone's been taught something is fiction doesn't mean it is fiction.

Still… magic? It seemed a little far fetched but until something more acceptable came along, he'd see where things went.

He was just about to open discussion on what they should do besides the obvious objective of getting back to where they belonged when feral growls of various types started getting closer. Turning around, he saw a group of small monsters ranging from the size of a child to something more akin to a teenager advancing towards the two of them with hostile intent. From what he could see he didn't think any of them could do him serious harm, especially with his accelerated healing ability, but he didn't feel like being a chew toy.

Reaching up, he prepared to take off his white coat and shirt in preparation for shifting into his hybrid form but before he could even expose his stomach, something happened that he had not expected.

Out of nowhere chitinous clawed tentacles shot out, numbering four in total like spears, piercing each of the approaching tiny monsters one after another. By sheer chance none of them were pierced anyplace that'd be considered serious by a human but it definitely took them from being ready to cause trouble to being at a decided disadvantage. When the tentacles withdrew blood seeped from the wounds but every last one of the creatures proved capable of getting back to their feet, either running or hobbling away in fright.

Following the tentacles as they retracted back towards their source, he found out that their owner was either a human with a bit of inhuman in them or something inhuman masquerading as a human. Either way the stoic look on her face made it clear that she'd felt nothing when it came to harming the mini-demons. He didn't know quite how to take this so he decided to go with the line of reasoning that was easiest to swallow: she did this sort of thing so often it was boring.

Angitia, however, was of a distinctly different opinion as evidenced by how the black substance that covered her from top to bottom was going wild.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT!?" Angitia asked with clear agitation while approaching the tentacle wielding young woman, clearly intent on getting some answers before preventing a repeat.

"They were a threat," the young woman replied with a voice to match her emotionless exterior. "I dealt with them."

"You didn't need to harm them!" Angitia yelled, her long, prehensile tongue lashing about for a moment. "A simple scare would've been good enough!"

For a moment the blonde young woman seemed to be considering the alternate method of handling the previous confrontation and, when she reached a conclusion, she nodded.

"Understood. I will keep that in mind for the next time," the young woman said without an ounce of regret.

This seemed to MOSTLY pacify Angitia but he could still perceive spots of restlessness in the black substance that he bet was like a second skin.

Deciding it would be best to shift things away from the topic of friction, he coughed a bit to get their attention.

"Look, it's clear we're all feeling a little off after finding ourselves someplace other than where we remember being," he said once he was sure both women were paying attention. "Let's just calm down and think things through."

Luckily it seemed as though giving them something else to focus on did the trick in defusing the hostility between the two women.

"Now, since you seem to have a better idea of where we are than me or her, what do you think our next step should be, Angitia?" he asked, turning to the woman with the living second skin.

"We're afraid we won't be as much help as you think," Angitia replied with some disappointment. "Through our bond with our host we know that we are in a town called Sunnydale and that it is infected with various creatures and unusual phenomena. However anything more is going to have to wait awhile."

"Why?" he asked with honest curiosity.

"My host was unable to cope with the sensory and psychological nature of the bonding process and is unconscious," Angitia replied, sounding somewhat regretful about what'd happened. "It will be some time before she regains consciousness on her own."

Host? Did that mean that the entity he was talking to right now was the tar-like skin.

Oh boy.

* * *

_**The UCS Campus Haunted House**_

_**Hellboy'**__**s POV**_

_Well isn't this…__ fun__._he thought, looking around some Halloween funhouse with a mix of amusement and sarcastic cynicism.

He didn't know where the hell he was or how he'd gotten here but of all the places he could've woken up in, a horror house for trick or treaters wasn't one of them. Working with father in the B.P.R.D., he'd seen some strange shit, been hit with some strange shit and killed some strange shit, but the number of times he'd been teleported he could count on one hand.

His right hand, specifically.

Deciding that hanging out with the plastic spiders and the cotton spider webs wasn't going to do him any good in finding out where he was he picked a direction before starting to walk. Like most schmoes he tried to remember what'd happened before he was here but all he remembered was seeing the thing that'd popped out of Rasputin, ready to swallow him grenades and all. Between that moment and finding himself there, all he had was a big fat wad of blank that wouldn't clear up no matter what he did. So either he popped over with zero layovers in between or his brain had been dry cleaned recently with a LOT of starch.

He didn't like that. He didn't like that at all.

He had more than enough experience with demons and ghosts that played the mind game angle to fight him or just for shits and giggles, with not one of them worth being repeated. Plus he'd never quite had the knack for the whole mystic mind defense thing father tried to drill into him once he got old enough to understand the big words. He preferred things he could hit or shoot or blow up. It was simpler.

It didn't take him long to get outside and, predictably enough, it was nighttime and complete chaos was wherever he looked. Ghosts, goblins, vampires, demons and just about every other kind of humanoid being you could name were all over the place doing whatever the hell they wanted. Some were helping people, some were scaring people and some were just taking in their new address while trying to make sense of things. He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at it all because, as far as things went, it was pretty fun to watch and, since no one was getting hurt, he didn't have to put himself into a mix.

"A glorious night, isn't it?" a female voice with a slight Scottish brogue to it said from behind him.

Turning casually to see who it was, he couldn't help the 'huh' that popped out of his mouth. Sitting on what looked to be a cloud of bats was a woman with long sea green hair wearing an outfit clearly designed to make guys think with their little head but that wasn't what he found interesting. No, what had his interest were the two large purple and black wings stretching out from her back at waist level with two smaller ones extending out from the back of her head. No way did someone come up with something like that without a ton of money and no way would they hang out here.

Meaning this lady wasn't human, or at least not entirely.

"It's got a few things going for it," he said halfheartedly, liking the nighttime himself since it made things easier for him to have fun whenever he escaped from the department.

Not that he cared all that much about being seen.

It was hard living in a world filled with so much yet not being able to experience it firsthand because he wasn't human. So any chance he got to be out in the open air and even get a SMALL taste of what everyone else took for granted he took. Father and that ass Manning might bust his chops for it but only father's opinion mattered to him so he did feel sort of bad after hearing the lecture. Didn't stop him from doing it all over again but he always felt bad after he did it.

"True, and I bet we can make it even better," the winged woman said, taking flight and floating around until they were face to face. "Interested?"

Was she… yeah, she was coming onto him. Not a new thing for him since there'd been more than a few she-demons who'd been interested in him that way. He'd be lying if he said that none of them had been tempting but his heart and his soul had always belonged to Liz and always would, so he'd politely turned down anyone else's offers.

And when that didn't work, he used the Samaritan to 'impolitely' turn them down.

Still he could be misreading things, women were complicated after all, so he decided to give her the benefit of a doubt.

"What'd you have in mind?" he asked casually with a 'bit' of interest.

"Oh, I thought we could stroll about until something strikes out fancy," she replied, a playful smile revealing tiny fangs. "And when we find it we see just how far we can take it."

Either the she-devil was coming onto him or she really was just trying to have fun and wanted to take advantage of the chaos to get the most bang for her buck.

Whatever!

Bottom line, letting a female of a species he couldn't quite put a name to go off on her own was a little too Russian Roulette for him. Sure, he could pull the trigger and get nothing but there was always that ONE bullet that could make a BIG mess. So far all he knew was that she could fly and control bats, or maybe the bats were just magical constructs, but either way he had no way of knowing just how big a bang she was capable of pulling off. He didn't get the vibe that she was a walking apocalypse or even a city killer, but some she-demons could play things pretty damn close to the chest.

Better to keep a close eye on her and keep things from getting too crazy he thought before putting on a smile that showed he was of the same mind as her.

"Well, if we're going to paint the town red then I have to know my dance partner's name," he said with his own kind of playfulness.

"Morrigan Aensland, Princess of Makai, at your service," Morrigan declared with what was actually a mild form of the usual pomp he expected from inhuman royalty. "And you are?"

"Well seeing as how we just met, I'm gonna keep my real name for when things get serious," he said, knowing that true names had power. "For now call me Hellboy."

Instead of his secret pissing her off, she actually looked pleased that he wasn't carelessly tossing out facts that'd put them at a disadvantage if they met someone who didn't know how to 'play nice'. This also told him that she wasn't stupid and knew the rules of the supernatural to a certain degree. This would hopefully keep her from doing anything to flashy but, at the same time, it'd make her a royal pain to take down, especially since he only had the gear in his pockets to rely on.

_Then again they say a good Samaritan is always rewarded,_ he thought, finding the weight of his favorite gun comforting.

"More a man than a 'boy' from where I'm standing, big guy," Morrigan said after giving him a once over.

He preened a bit at this since a compliment about his looks was something he rarely got from anyone outside his closest friends, given his pedigree. Still, he didn't let it pull his guard down. Until he had a better idea of what kind of lady Morrigan was and why she was there, wherever they were, he had to be ready to fight her and put her down if it was necessary.

It'd be a shame if it did become necessary; she was a looker.

Just because Liz was the only woman for him that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy taking in some Grade A beauty every once in a while.

He just had to be all respectful about it and drop it if the lady didn't like it.

"Got that right!" he bragged with a smile. "Now let's see what counts as fun in this town."

Should be interesting, one way or another.

* * *

_**The Summers Art Gallery**_

_**Juan Garcia**__**'**__**s POV**_

_This… this could've gone better, _he thought as he watched Miss Summers and Veronica shift from one style of fighting to another.

Not that it was always a professional form of fighting, of course.

Some times it was plain old cat fighting and sometimes it was moves that came straight from a barroom brawl, but occasionally there were some techniques that could be attributed to known hand-to-hand combat styles. He and a few of the other guests had tried to intervene, to calm the women down, but the lucky ones had just gotten shoved on their asses.

The unlucky ones, though, found out the hard way just how good of a right hook the two women had, with Miss Summer's punch possibly putting a crack in one guest's jawbone.

Thus he and the remaining guests chose to simply stay out of the way of the two ladies while hopefully keeping an eye on things to prevent serious injury or even death. Eventually they'd exhaust themselves thus making themselves more open to reason OR one would succeed in defeating the other, putting an end to the violence. So far he'd limited himself to moving dangerous pieces of art out of the way, things with sharp edges, and, from what he could tell, neither woman had anything more than minor scrapes and bruises to worry about.

Still, given how it'd begun, he felt just a modicum of responsibility for this development.

When he'd first gotten the invite from Miss Summers to attend her Halloween party in Sunnydale, he'd of course been only too happy to attend. The woman had a solid reputation in California and, while not as big as some of the more famous galleries frequented by all the big names, only snobs had anything bad to say. Add to that the fact that the woman had succeeded in getting him good offers for his pieces and he'd anticipated a solid and productive evening. However a friend of his who preferred to make art with fabric said that if he really wanted to move up in the world of art, he needed to be seen with the right people. It was a fact that making a name for yourself involved who you knew as much as it did the quality of your work, since people tended to listen to important people. He'd been dubious about this but had decided to trust his friend, who also had a suggestion for him. Since the invitation he'd received from Miss Summers had a 'plus one' option on it, this was the perfect opportunity to be seen with someone important.

Someone like Veronica Chambers, whom, according to his friend, was looking to improve her image by adding some culture to her reputation.

He'd of course heard of Miss Chambers from previous chats with his friend and the few times the woman had shown up on TV but he'd been a little dubious about her agreeing. After all, while he'd steadily been getting a better reputation amongst his fellow artists and art dealers, his infamy was somewhat restricted to the west coast and people the media only randomly took interest in. If the woman was looking to appear more cultured in the eyes of the media and the American people, going with him to a small town art gallery wouldn't do much. His friend, however, hadn't been overly worried since being at a small time event would give Miss Chambers a chance to learn the terminology and the various styles without being embarrassed by mistakes on camera.

It'd made sense so he'd left the deal making to his friend.

When he'd driven up to the woman's home to pick her up, he'd been impressed by the design of the place but he'd been awe struck when the woman herself had appeared dressed for the occasion. Sure, he'd seen the pictures and even glimpsed a few times when she'd been on TV, but to see her in person, right before his eyes, it was something else indeed. However the more time they'd spent together, the clearer it became that this was just a business deal to her, a transaction, and that she'd prefer it remain that way. He wasn't entirely disappointed since, to be honest, his luck with women hadn't been the greatest, but there had been a small part of himself that'd dreamed about there being something more between them.

When they'd arrived at the gallery, the variety, not to mention the quality, of the costumes worn had greatly helped his mood and so he'd exchanged the usual pleasantries with Miss Summers. From there he'd spoken with a few of the other guests while also talking to Miss Chambers when he could, pointing out to her some of the more notable pieces of art. While not what you'd call an art teacher, he felt it best if he did a little bit to educate her on this particular form of culture that she wanted to get to know.

To be fair the woman had made a decent effort in the beginning to remain polite and be educated but a short while before sundown things had taken a turn for the worse. What little tolerance Veronica might have had for those of lesser wealth and reputation had apparently run dry and that'd led to some… unkind comments towards the guests in general and Miss Summers in particular. He'd made an effort to calm things down but a stern warning and a glare from Miss Chambers had turned the words he'd planned on speaking to ash before they could leave the mouth.

After that he'd learned just where Miss Summers' line in the sand was and Miss Chambers had tap danced right over it without a care in the world.

"Oooh! THAT had to hurt," Mister Stanton, a metalwork sculptor, said with a wince after Miss Summers had delivered a passable uppercut.

WHAM!

"Not as much as that must've," Miss Stanton said from her husband's side when Miss Chambers retaliated with a kick to the knee.

Seeing Miss Summers hobble a bit he knew he'd have to intervene soon and damn the consequences, lest someone get hurt badly enough to need a hospital.

It was then that he'd felt… something… pass over him like a wave of wind but, as soon as he came up with that description it was gone, making him think he might've imagined it.

"What's the matter, bone lady?" Miss Chambers asked, sounding like she could smell victory. "Run out of stamina already? Guess that's why your ex left you. He wanted a lady who could do it ALL NIGHT LONG!"

When he looked at Miss Summers, he could indeed see signs that she was having difficulty of some sort that he could not attribute to any blow he'd seen her receive. If anything it looked like the pain she was feeling was getting worse and it wasn't sticking to just the spots where she'd gotten hurt but all over her body.

"Bet the only time you get all hot is when you get those flashes you old ladies are known for," Miss Chambers said before kicking the gallery owner's legs out from under her.

_I__'m gonna kick Don's ass when I get back,_ he thought as he took a step forward to finally slam the brakes on this farce.

He didn't get to a second step because at that very moment his eyes began to see wisps of gray smoke rise at random points on Missus Summers' black-clad body. His mind couldn't conceive of a single thing that could cause such a sight and as he saw the gallery owner get to her hands and knees, his lack of comprehension only grew with the smoke that went from being wisps to plumes. Was there some sort of gimmick in her costume? Something electrical? He didn't know. Personally the costume looked to be too tight to hide anything without some visible bulges but then again he was no Hollywood special effects expert.

"Then again maybe all you need is a nap," Miss Chambers said, walking up to Miss Summers. "I hear you old folks need those once or twice a day. Let me help you with that!"

Seeing Veronica raising her high heeled shoe foot up for what appeared to be a stomp of some kind, he raised his hand to be followed by his voice but, just as the foot descended, something unexpected happened. With newfound strength and speed, Miss Summers' right hand shot up and caught the foot coming at her and stopped it in its tracks. This shocked just about everyone, including Veronica, but when Miss Summers began to rise to her feet without any sign of strain incomprehension began to set in. It was when the gallery owner got to one knee, though, that the excitement spiked when, with a single arm, Miss Summers managed to toss Chambers backwards into the air a good couple of feet.

This would've been hard enough for a soldier with both arms employed.

To see a woman in her early forties with the body of your average civilian woman do it, it should've been impossible!

However, as Miss Summers finished rising to her feet and her face became clear for him to see, he began to think that after tonight he was going to have to reevaluate and broaden his definition of impossible. He could see the anger in her eyes, the snarl on her lips, but what had his attention were the spots of black that were growing on her skin. From what he could tell it looked like they were the source of the gray smoke he'd seen earlier. As though something were burning its way to the surface the black spots continued to grow in size and, while he could tell the gallery owner felt the pain it was weaker than the anger fueling her actions now.

"Looks to me… like you're the one… who could use help," Miss Summers said as she walked towards a recovering Miss Chambers. "And I got it… right HERE!"

It was at this point that the cause of Miss Summers' blackening skin finally reached the surface as fire that even as he watched ate away at the woman's flesh like it was doused in gasoline. It was spreading so fast, eating away at the flesh, that he could tell right away that even if he could somehow figure out a way to put them out the damage was already fatal.

By the time it was all said and done there was no flesh left, not on the head or on the hands, only flickering orange fire coating what was exposed.

But it was the eyes… the eyes that he saw… they weren't human orbs, for those had been burned away to ashes, but rather pinpoints of blood red crimson fire that sent a chill right down his spine. Unlike other chills, though, it didn't come and go in the space of a few seconds this one remained until he could stand it no longer, forcing him to look away. It was like… it was like those eyes could see right through to his very soul and were capable of weighing the good against the bad.

He didn't like that feeling.

"What the hell are you?" Chambers asked, sounding shocked at what she was seeing striding towards her.

"Veronica Chambers… the blood of innocents stains your soul…" Miss Summers said, ignoring the question entirely from far enough past him that he could look at her once more. "The time has come for you to do your penance for all the suffering your actions have caused."

He knew something bad was going to happen, something terrible, but even knowing that he could not bring himself to do anything to prevent it.

As it turned out he didn't need to.

"Like hell I do!" Chambers yelled before lashing out at the transformed Miss Summers.

He honestly didn't think that any of his date's old moves would do any good against what the gallery owner had become so, when the black leather form flew backwards as though from a sling shot, he was glad he was not in the flaming skeleton's path. Sent crashing into one of Mister Stanton's works with a theme centered on a meat packing plant, the entire thing was demolished as though it'd been hit by a human sized cannonball. When he looked to see how Chambers had managed such a feat, he had yet another reason to question Don's judgment.

Instead of the woman he'd come to Sunnydale with, there was some… some hybrid between a human being and some sort of feline, though don't ask him what kind. With slit eyes and more musculature than he remembered her having a moment ago, it looked as though her dress was at its limits when it came to fitting her. Whatever the case it was clear that she wasn't going to let anyone make her do anything she didn't want to do and apparently had the power to hold her own.

But this wasn't going to be some one-hit knockout fight, that much was for sure.

To support this idea, the sound of movement and scraping metal drew his attention back to Miss Summers and found her getting back to her feet without any sign that she'd been injured after being sent through the sculpture. As she rose, a loose length of heavy duty chain caught her attention and, with careful deliberation, she picked it up before standing tall before her target.

"Your grafted strength will not save you," Miss Summers said with a voice that would be right at home amidst the fires of hell. "The vengeance of all those you have harmed cannot be stopped. Through me they will at last find peace."

"So you're a flaming skeleton and you're tough," Chambers snarled, a more primal quality entering her voice. "I'm not impressed."

"Not looking to impress you," Miss Summers said before the length of chain in her hands suddenly burst into flame. "Looking to make you pay!"

"Then I guess it's time for round two!" Chambers yelled before leaping at Miss Summers, hands forward with the intent to use her claws to tear asunder whatever she could.

However, with surprising reflexes, Summers whipped the flaming chain in an arc and, just as Veronica was about to get close enough for her claws to do any good, the links of metal hit her. Like any other chain or rope it wrapped around the feline female, burning her flesh wherever it touched, and once it succeeded in wrapping around twice Miss Summers swung HARD. In doing so she managed to alter Chambers' path to the right, slamming the hybrid being into the nearest wall hard enough to dent it. This looked to be enough to put Veronica in a daze somewhat, even as the flames coating the chain continued to blacken her flesh and damage her dress.

Unable to defend herself, there was nothing his date could do as the flaming skulled biker that Miss Summers had turned into approached, keeping the chain taut every step of the way. Once arm length was reached, Miss Summers grabbed the chain wrapped around Veronica and lifted the cat woman off the ground until they could look eye to eye with one another. By this point Chambers had recovered for the most part and, surprisingly, was still defiant even with the tactical disadvantage she had to deal with.

"Look into my eyes, Veronica Chambers," Miss Summers said in a manner that compelled obedience. "Feel the pain and the misery you have caused others. All for you and all at once."

He didn't know what precisely happened when his date did as asked but, when the animal-human hybrid began screaming bloody murder, he could only look on in horror. For Veronica, for any being to make such a noise, it could only mean that she was experiencing a great deal of pain and it made him wonder if the feline female really had harmed a great number of people. It took a full two minutes before the screaming stopped and then, like her prey was of no further concern, Miss Summers dropped Chambers to the ground, pulling the chain off of her before wrapping it around herself. As the owner of the gallery walked towards the front door, he let his gaze drop to look at the vacant expression on Veronica's face. There was no life there, no emotion, just an open mouth and above that… above that where two eyes should have been were nothing but black orbs with cracks of fire.

"What… what the… WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?" Missus Stanton asked, finally brought out of her stupor of fear and incomprehension by the relative peace they now had.

"I don't know but I know we don't have crazy shit like this in L.A.," another guest asked with a voice of fear. "I'm outta here!"

More voiced similar opinions before as a group heading for the front door of the gallery that Miss Summers had just walked through half a minute earlier.

He followed them out but not for the same reason.

For them, getting outside was just about getting away from Sunnydale as soon as they could in the hopes that distance would make sure that they never saw anything abnormal again. In his case, however, he wanted to know more, he wanted an explanation, and the only one who could give him one was Miss Summers. As soon as he was outside he looked around for the owner of the gallery and, fortunately for him, a flaming skeleton for a head was damn near impossible to miss. He found her in less than a minute in a parking lot a little over a block away and, oddly enough, she seemed to be examining the vehicles parked there. Rushing to join her, he soon reached her side and fell into stride beside her but, when he thought to speak, he had trouble finding the words.

It was only when Miss Summers came to a stop that he decided on his first question.

"Where will you go?" he asked, figuring it was the only question whose answer he'd likely comprehend.

"A great many innocents have suffered in this town," Miss Summers replied, looking at a Custom HD Panhead Chopper motorcycle. "A great many have their blood on their souls. They must face my penance stare. They must feel the suffering of those they have harmed."

With those words she reached out with her skeletal hands, placed them on the motorcycle, and with a mighty bellow of effort channeled her flames into the vehicle. It was then that he beheld a terrifyingly wonderful sight when, before his eyes, the Chopper began to transform from the rear to the front, taking on attributes that matched Miss Summers perfectly. With a skull face in front of the handle bars and chain-shaped rods connecting it to the front wheel, it made for an intimidating sight and that was without the flames that enshrouded both wheels.

With her effort successful, Miss Summers mounted the motorcycle, presumably to seek out those guilty of harming the innocent.

"Have a safe journey home, Juan Garcia," Miss Summers said to him, a bit of humanity returning to her inhuman form. "Remember what you saw here tonight. Remember and realize what it means about the world."

With that she drove off into the night, leaving a trail of flame in her wake that did not look like it'd be going out any time soon. As he looked down the street she'd gone down, he thought on her parting words and the meaning behind them. 'Remember what it means about the world'… what did she mean? He thought for five straight minutes until, with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer, it hit him and the realization had him running for his car as fast as his legs could carry him.

What did this night mean?

In seeing Miss Summers and seeing his date, he'd seen proof positive that human beings were not the only intelligent life forms on Earth. The certainties that so many people took for granted about what was or was not possible were built on foundations that were decidedly less solid than he'd ever thought possible.

While he would have liked to think that Summers and Chambers were unique, his mind told him that that was unlikely. Nothing just came into being and that meant parents or 'creators' if either of the women had been artificially created somehow. Without knowing more, there could be anywhere from dozens to a great deal more of them out there than his courage was comfortable with. Some might think that there was no way there could be too many, otherwise they would've wound up in the newspapers or on TV but popular fiction indicated otherwise. All forms of fiction had, at one point or another, pointed out the possibility of government or corporate cover ups when the existence of uncommon life forms became a concrete fact. Then, of course, there was the fact that, until a short while ago, neither Miss Summers nor Miss Chambers had given him any reason to suspect that they were anything other than normal humans.

Put it all together and you came up with the possibility of their being a great many humanoid beings on the planet with abilities that'd make killing the average human quite easy.

Needless to say he wanted one thing right now more than anything: to get to the relative safety of his house behind its locked doors and expensive security system.

_First chance I get, I'm stocking up on blessed silver, crosses and a gun capable punching holes in just about anything,_ he thought, arriving at his car, fishing the keys out of his pocket. _Maybe get some silver bullets to go with it._

At this point anything that improved his feeling of safety would be acceptable.

* * *

_**Willow'**__**s POV**_

Waking up should never feel weird.

However that was how it felt when she rose up from the depths of unconsciousness and, even as she began to open her eyes, she couldn't help but feel like she had a full bodysuit on. This, to her, was odd because, to the best of her knowledge, the outfit that she remembered wearing for Halloween should've been more 'ventilated' than this. As her eyes cracked open, she could see the streets of Sunnydale ahead of her but it was like she was looking through a dusty pair of sunglasses.

And she could feel herself walking.

How was she walking? Was she sleepwalking? But she wasn't asleep anymore so shouldn't she be stopping?

DO NOT WORRY WILLOW ROSENBERG. I HAVE BEEN DOING THE WALKING FOR YOU FOR THE LAST FIFTEEN MINUTES.

"What the heck!?" she exclaimed, startled by the voice that'd boomed in her mind.

In her freaking she forced herself to come to a complete stop and thankfully her body did what she told it to do. This did a little to calm her down but not a lot. She was building up quite the list of questions and she was getting damn few answers from her analytical mind. She remembered being with Xander and Buffy, getting ambushed then slimed by Larry's group and then… then something happened that hit her mind with so much input at once that she blacked out. How she'd gone from a ghost costume to a bodysuit and a weird voice in her head didn't make sense…

…unless she'd developed split personality disorder as a child and the second personality had been dormant until whatever the heck knocked her out happened.

YOU DO NOT HAVE SPLIT PERSONALITY DISORDER, WILLOW ROSENBERG. WE ARE NOT YOU. WE ARE ANGITIA AND WE ARE THE 'BODYSUIT' YOU ARE WEARING.

Angitia. Goddess of snakes, healing, and witchcraft.

That she could handle.

However the way the voice had phrased its response, that she was WEARING it, was sending her stress levels right back up. The idea that she was wearing something that was both alive and, by her reckoning, sentient, not to mention capable of communicating with her telepathically, was WAY worse than anything else she'd encountered atop the hellmouth. Coming into such close and intimate contact with such a life form wasn't her idea of good, either. So it was only natural for her to reach up with her hands and frantically try to pull off whatever was covering her head and get back to the open air she knew. She only managed three frantic pulls however before, with a smoothness found only in something that was alive, the bodysuit with a mind of its own flowed away from her head. By the time it was done everything above her shoulders was exposed and boy did she relish the feeling of Californian air on her skin instead of the alien feeling that'd been there before. Looking down at the her hands, her brain became awash with a mix of scientific curiosity and rejection as the black substance covering her hands placed claws at the tips of both fingers as well as thumbs. The more she examined herself, the more she had to wonder what the FUCK was going on and, when no answers were forthcoming, she decided that it was best to do the natural thing.

"Gotta find Giles!" she said, certain that the Watcher would have some clue what'd happened and how to turn everything back to normal.

"Who's Giles?" a voice she knew as well as her own asked.

Turning towards the source, she was overjoyed to see Xander standing less than ten paces from her and Buffy was there, too. It comforted her to know that she had both her friends with her since, as irrational as it might have been to think so, she felt that as long as they were together they'd manage. However it was just as she was about to answer them that two things stopped her and almost eradicated the joy she'd been feeling. The first was the most obvious in that Xander had asked who Giles was when all of the Scoobies knew both the name as well as the person it was attached to. They'd known the British man for a year and a half, so the very idea that one of them would suddenly not remember was worrying. The other thing?

The absolute zero emotion on Buffy's face.

In all the time she'd known the blonde Slayer, there had never been a moment when one emotion or another wasn't present on her face. While there were some emotions that could be mistaken for the absence of feelings, she'd known Buffy long enough to be able to see through to the truth. At the moment it was almost like she was looking at a clone of Buffy. Someone with the exact same appearance but without the soul that made the Summers girl who she truly was at her core.

Put the two facts together and you came to two possibilities: either her friends were possessed or for some unknown purpose her friends had been replaced with exact copies.

She chose to favor the first option since it meant that her friends were still with her and all she had to do was figure out how to get the foreign minds out of their bodies.

"Giles… Giles knows about strange stuff like this," she replied, seeing the benefit to convincing the two before her to follow her. "If anyone can figure out what's going on, it's him."

"Sounds good to me," 'Xander' said with a smile she'd never seen on his face. "Michael Corvin, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," she said, deciding that there was no harm in being polite. "And you?"

"Doctor Abbot named me Sara," 'Buffy' replied, showing no emotion and not expanding on her statement.

"Nice to meet you," she said automatically, despite being chilled by the tone coming from her friend's mouth.

"Any idea where Giles would be?" 'Xander' asked once introductions were out of the way.

"I think they're up at the university," she replied, thinking back on the last time she'd seen the Watcher. "He was going up there with Miss Calendar. This way."

With that she took the lead and walked as quickly as she could without making it look like she was trying to get away from the two of them.

As she walked, her mind returned to the question of what was going on and why. As was to be expected, she was pretty sure that the cause was some kind of sorcery since most demons who possessed a special ability of some kind had one in line with their nature. If it was magic, then what was the purpose of the spell? A spell needed something to target people with since it only made sense that an area of effect spell would've altered the environment along with the people. However, since Giles had never noticed anything odd about their clothes, then she could only presume that it'd been their costumes or perhaps the stuff that went with their costumes that caused them to be targeted.

Did that mean that the university student that Buffy had taken them to was responsible? Or was the girl just guilty of shopping at the wrong place for her supplies?

GIVEN THAT THERE ARE OTHERS WHO HAVE BEEN CHANGED, WE BELIEVE IT MORE LIKELY THAT IT IS THE SOURCE OF THE STUDENT'S SUPPLIES.

She couldn't help but shiver at the telepathic communication but she couldn't find any faults with the reasoning. If only the people who'd gone to the university student had been changed then there wouldn't be nearly as much chaos going on as she could hear in the surrounding neighborhoods and further away. For there to be this much of commotion going on, the source had to be something decidedly bigger, or at least configured to spread its influence as far as possible. Thinking back to all the gossip and chit-chat she'd heard walking the hallways of Sunnydale High, she tried to remember if she'd heard anything about someone new setting up in town.

Sadly she'd never been one of the 'in crowd' and it had been that way for so long that she'd never really had a reason to want to eavesdrop or catch casual bits of conversation. Sure, since Buffy had become her friend and they'd begun work to protect the people of Sunnydale, she'd kept an eye and an ear open for signs of something supernatural, but it wasn't all that hard. A lot of the things they'd dealt with had been far from subtle and those things that had the intelligence to take the subtle route were usually foiled by a Slayer dream.

_Guess we'll have to hope Giles can figure out a way to track the spell back to its source, _she thought as she continued towards the university while keeping an eye out for trouble.

Without knowing anything about the particulars of the spell, there was no way of knowing who else had been changed, how they'd been changed or how many threats might be out there. While it might be the case that the real monsters and demons stayed in tonight, with this new development, walking the streets might prove to be even more dangerous than usual.

DO NOT WORRY, WILLOW. WE WILL PROTECT YOU AND THE OTHERS.

She honestly couldn't say if this was a good thing or a bad thing.


End file.
